The Clownfish and the Anemone
by jellinor
Summary: The many loves, losses and lives of Dominic Sorel and his Anemone captured in a series of mostly unrelated snapshots. #14: O Brothers, Why Art Thou? "...your brothers?" she asks, curiously. "No," he denies firmly and with a perfectly straight face. "Never seen them before in my life."
1. It's Okay

**It's Okay**

* * *

Sometimes, we just need to be told.

This one revolves around Anemone, Dominic and what is spoken into a starry, starry night.

* * *

#

"...did it hurt?"

The girl slowly turned her head so that her field of vision now included the shadowy outline of the stoic, dark-haired boy by her side, all while expecting an immediate and reassuring answer. But when the boy – whom she nowadays thought of as exclusively _her_ boy – remained silent, a pair of pink brows furrowed with annoyance over the blatant inattention, and she only narrowly resisted the urge to reach out and flick him on the forehead.

"Hey! Dominic! I'm talking to you!"

"Huh? Oh, I'm sorry, Anemone. My mind was somewhere else entirely..." the boy mumbled as the corners of his mouth gently curled upwards apologetically. "Hmm, it's such a beautiful night. I'm glad we came."

As they were sitting on top of Dominic's trusty motorcycle, surrounded on all sides by lush forest and open skies and with the Moon and the stars high above their heads, she couldn't help but to agree wholeheartedly. It really _was_ beautiful. But it wasn't the scenery, the chorus of steadily chirping crickets, or even Gulliver's familiar weight over her legs that made her feel strangely warm inside. It was him.

It had always been _him_; and at the sound of his voice, a lump had formed at the base of her throat and she could practically feel her irritation melt away under his calm gaze. She had experienced it so many times in the past, yet his steel-coloured eyes had lost none of their spellbinding power; and their devastating effect on her hadn't lessened even the slightest.

She suspected that those eyes could make her forgive him anything.

That said, 'anything' did in no way equate to 'everything', and she liked to think that she had made that particular distinction perfectly clear at the very beginning of her weird and wonderful journey together with Dominic Sorel. Namely, if he ever – _ever_ – dared to let his mind venture anywhere near even the most miniscule and remote shadow of a thought about getting some (naturally) half-assed replacement for her...

_Oh man, would she make him regret it._

Because that boy and his notoriously bad sense of direction (he was a field officer – one of the best, apparently – and still he managed to get lost on his way to just about anything. And when he had let it slip that he remembered the four cardinal directions by referring to _cutlery_ of all things, she had laughed so hard that she thought that her diaphragm would give out), seeming inability to grasp even the basics to the meaning of 'personal space' (though, she had to admit that he _was_ learning), infuriating stubbornness, and worst of all, appalling recklessness (seriously, who in his right mind willingly threw himself into a collapsing hole with his only backup plan consisting of a reflection board, which he later admitted to having no idea of how to actually use? _who did that_?); all those little strange quirks that sometimes conspired to drive her up the walls – but which were what truly made Dominic into the adorable goof that he was – belonged to _her_, and she'd be damned (and he would be too, she would make sure of that) if they ever slipped through the fingers that seemed to fit his so perfectly. She had almost lost him once, and she was painfully aware of the fact that this time around there would be no TheEND to save them if they fell apart again.

And so without realizing it, she had started to drift off into her own thoughts, only to be brought back to the cool, starry night by a gentle nudge to her shoulder.

"Anemone? You're not falling asleep on me, are you?" He watched the immobile shape by his side, its cascading flow of softly glowing pink securely anchored on his left shoulder, with a small, content smile playing on his lips.

It was odd that someone who had seen so much death and experienced so much pain could radiate such warmth and peace. If only she knew what power she held over him; all it took for his poor heart to skip a beat was a quick glance in his direction, the faintest touch of her hand, or just a hint of her smile.

Because Anemone really had the most _stunning_ smile; she unleashed its full power only very rarely, but its sparkle increased her beauty tenfold if that even was possible. Though, as much as he enjoyed basking in its brilliance, he was secretly very glad – and exceedingly grateful – that Anemone never did anything too heart-tuggingly adorable around other people (other _men_ to be specific), because it made his task of fending off the competition so much easier.

_God only knew that he had enough problems with that as it was._

Now, Dominic Sorel didn't think of himself as particularly prone to jealousy or anything of the sort – really, he wasn't! In fact, all things considered, Dominic thought himself quite reasonable and not without compassion for the plights of others. That was, of course, provided that the plights in question did not involve the wooing a certain (and thankfully blissfully unaware so far) beautiful pink-haired girl.

Why, oh_ why_ – and he really wished that someone would take pity upon him and kindly offer an explanation for this irritating phenomena, as well as advising him on how to most effectively make it go far, far away – couldn't the infuriating _fools_ (especially the ones around eighteen-nineteen years of age; these being, in his experience, particularly cocky bastards possessing little to no regard for personal space or self-preservation) who insisted on pestering the angel by his side with their suspicious puppy eyes, lecherous winks and other vulgarities that Dominic didn't even want to think about, get it through their thick skulls that _his_ Anemone was strictly off-limits and that they therefore would do best in keeping their filthy paws (and minds) well away from her general vicinity? Really now, was that too much to ask for? It wasn't an impossible request, surely.

Honestly. It made perfect sense to him, anyway.

Dominic sighed to himself _at_ himself. Surely, this kind of skewed logic couldn't be healthy at any level and yet…

Oh, heck. _Who was he even kidding_?

Back at the barracks, his older and more 'experienced' comrades had used a specific word to describe people in his exact situation, and which they had thrown around with the same jovial, careless ease as they did insults, jokes and the occasional throwing knives (depending on preference and situation, of course). The term in question was 'whipped' and although he hadn't quite grasped its full implication back then, it had never seemed more appropriate (or pin-pointedly accurate) than it did right this moment. Dominic Sorel was indeed utterly and completely _whipped_ by the strange powers of the seemingly sleeping lump by his side. She had him eating out of the palm of her flawless hand, securely wrapped around her delicate little finger. He had gone to the ends of the earth (or at least to the _centre_ of it, in any case) to protect her and he would gladly do the same all over again, did the opportunity ever present itself.

Of course, that was not to say that he would much prefer if it didn't. There were far more romantic (and safer) ways of expressing one's never-dying love and devotion than during a free-fall towards certain death. Although, admittedly, _that_ kiss _had_ more than made up for it...

Well. Speaking of (or rather _thinking_ about) the little angel, he had to admit that her head _was_ getting rather heavy as it rested on him and that his shoulder _was_ beginning to go a bit numb under her (feathery) weight, so he decided to gently shake some life back into her.

"Anemone, if you're tired, there are more comfortable places to sleep than on my shoulder," he whispered into her hair. "...Anemone? Oh, so you _are_ awake after all. And here I thought you had given up on me and fallen asleep."

"Of course I'm awake! Don't be so stupid, Dominic," she huffed indignantly, her pride barely stifling a yawn. "I said that I'd watch the stars with you, didn't I? Besides, there's no way that I could ever fall asleep on you. Your shoulder is way too bony to be comfortable."

_Too bony, huh._

Though decidedly displeased by her verdict, Dominic decided against pursuing that most _unfair_ gibe about his physique, correctly dismissing it as her special way of communicating. In any case, in all the years that he had known her, the angel by his side had said far, _far_ more disturbing things than that. "Um, anyway, didn't you say something earlier?"

"Did it hurt?" she repeated, slower this time. Her voice was somewhat muffled as she had turned her head into his chest, steadily breathing in his scent. She hadn't thought about the incident since it happened and she didn't really want to ask him about it… But then she had noticed the scar as their heads collided when they put up the tent earlier in the day, and its presence had brought back memories of the many cuts, marks and bruises she had left on him. And it carried with it painful feelings of guilt and the echoes of more cruelty and insanity than she thought was humanly possible.

His scar had reminded her of a wild animal, caged and beaten, fearless and blood-thirsty, savage and uncontrollable. It had reminded her of a monster.

And _she_ was that monster.

Although the cage had been forced open and the beast set free, she was afraid that the blood-lust would remain buried within her for as long as she lived – and that, one day, it would take over. If that happened, who knew what she would be capable of doing, or how far she would go?

"Did what hurt?" he countered offhandedly, but not quite managing to conceal the concern that had crept into his voice.

He hated it when Anemone slipped into one of her occasional moods. She would get this indescribably _vacant_ look in her eyes, which told him that she had retreated into her own world where even he couldn't reach her, no matter how hard he tried. It was so frustrating and utterly tormenting to be forced to stand by and _watch_ as the girl who he had loved and still loved more than _anything_ (possibly more than could be considered to be normal. Of course, that was when _not_ including Renton Thurston and his Eureka in the comparative analysis: the engravings on the glowing sphere in the night sky said as much. Though, personally, Dominic thought that the declaration, however grand, perhaps was a bit... _much_, perhaps?), suffered from the memories of horrors of a magnitude that he couldn't even begin to imagine. As much as he wanted to and has hard as he tried, he accepted – albeit regretfully – that there were some burdens he could never shoulder in her stead, pain he could never hope to alleviate and memories he could never share with her. He hated the feeling of helplessness that accompanied this knowledge: all he could do was to be there when she needed him, love and reassure her, and attempt to answer her cryptic questions to the best of his ability; even when he knew that his best wouldn't be anywhere near good enough.

But tonight he sensed that the sudden query hadn't been brought on by yet another series of introspective musings. Still, the feeling of melancholy refused to leave him. So he simply waited for her to continue of her own accord; waited and watched… as usual.

"That," she whispered, at long last.

She had detached herself from him completely and her unnaturally large eyes were studying him solemnly, while a slender arm reached towards his face, thin fingers cautiously tracing the faint outlines of a scar that he had nearly forgotten. Instinctively, he brought his own hand to the side of his lip, lightly brushing over the small irregularity.

"Oh." Dominic repressed a heavy sigh as the unfortunate memories surrounding his first (and horribly _failed_) attempt to kiss her floated to the surface of his consciousness. Those particular fragments of sound, taste, smell and touch made him cringe with embarrassment every time he had the misfortune to come across them – not only had she flatly rejected his advances, but she had bit him. Hard. "...uh, it hurt a bit, I guess."

"I see." She sensed his discomfort, and though she couldn't know what had actually caused him to twitch or why the tone of his voice changed, she was not without imagination. Her fingers immediately ceased their exploration of his face and she quickly withdrew her hand, which then fell into her jeans-clad lap dejectedly. "I have caused you so much pain, haven't I."

She refused to look at him, instead focusing on the snoring Gulliver. A thick curtain of hair hid the turmoil of emotions that he knew would be visible in her eyes – and which he also knew she still didn't quite know how to handle.

This was _not_ good. Not good at all and he was panicking now. _Do something, Dominic_, he urged himself_. Do something to make it better! Say something to make her stop hurting!_

"Ah, but it wasn't that bad. I mean, eh, I have a pretty high pain threshold, you know," he said at last, hoping that he hadn't given her enough time to mull over something else. "Really, it was just my pride that got a bit bruised and—"

"Dominic, please, could you just... just _stop_. Just stop talking."

"I'm sorry, I—"

"You're not the one who's supposed to apologize, you idiot!_ I'm_ the one who should be sorry. And I am. I really, really am. I'm so, so sorry! Not just for that, but for _everything_. I was horrible to you, wasn't I? I hurt you over and over, and every time I... Every time I piloted TheEND, I _killed _someone, and I... I... I think I _enjoyed_ it! Dominic, I enjoyed—"

"It wasn't your fault. Anemone, everything that happened back then, all those things that Dewey made you do, it wasn't the _real_ you. That was the drugs and—"

"That's not true. You know that's not true." Truly, she didn't know whether to laugh or cry at his earnest defence of her. Dominic, her dear darling Dominic, had put her on a pedestal and she was so, so _afraid_ to fall from its great height. Still, she had to try to make him understand. "The girl who did all those things – the girl who piloted TheEND, that girl – she was _me_, _is_ me and she's still here, somewhere inside. You can't see her right now, but I _feel_ her and she's... She's _laughing_ at me! That girl... She frightens me, Dominic! I'm so afraid that she'll come back some day and that I won't be able to control her! I can't help but thinking what if I hurt you again? What if—"

"We'll deal with that if it happens," he stated, firmly putting an end to her ramblings. "We'll think of something together."

"Together..." She was desperate to believe the kindness she found in dark eyes glittering at her in the night. "You mean you would still...? Even when knowing what I am? What I could do to you?"

"Of course I would." He extended his right hand which came to rest on her cheek, but when it slid down to the receptor permanently embedded in her soft flesh, she let out a small whimper and tried to move away from his touch. It wasn't that it was a particularly sensitive area in the physical sense – countless operations and injections had since long rendered that part of her body dull and unresponsive – but the metal was a painful reminder of the fear and paranoia that had washed over her before the drugs stopped her from feeling anything at all.

"Dominic, I don't… I don't deserve all this. A person like me doesn't deserve _anything_."

Her reaction tore at his heart and he knew that she didn't like to be reminded of the past, but he didn't withdraw his hand. Instead, he slowly caressed the skin around the sleek devise, as he struggled to put his feelings into words.

"It's... okay," he began hesitantly, but soon gaining the confidence to continue. "It's okay to want to live, to want to be happy; it's okay to want to move on and build something new. It might be difficult and hurt at first, but you're not alone anymore. I'll be here, no matter what, for as long as you want me to, because... because I love you, Anemone. And nothing will ever, ever change that."

She couldn't help but to smile at the sight of the series of small creases which had appeared on the smooth skin between his eyebrows, indicating that Dominic Sorel was serious. _This_ was why he alone meant so much to her: all this warmth, innocence, wisdom, patience, kindness and selflessness blended so perfectly into one single human being.

He continued to gaze at her thoughtfully as he absentmindedly brushed aside a stubborn lock of dark brown hair that was obstructing his view of her, and she silently lamented the fact that his hand no longer was in contact with her face. Somehow, she always felt so much colder without him.

"...I can't hear you," she murmured, hoping that he might remember.

"Which part?" he smiled, indeed recollecting just how she forced him to come out into the open and finally declare his feelings for her – all while they both were rapidly plunging towards their deaths. It wasn't exactly the scenario he had envisioned for his eventual confession, but what happened afterwards was pretty damn wonderful and well worth the multi-million price tag that came along with all the destroyed equipment, the narrow escape from her close-range Vascud Crisis and the uncomfortable free-fall that still made him sick to his stomach when he thought about it for too long.

"The last part... I didn't quite catch the last part."

The way that her large, expressive eyes seemed to beg for closeness and understanding almost broke his heart.

_Love me, _they me. Love me._ Please._

"Ah, I see..." He leaned in towards her, slowly and teasingly and her eyes widened a fraction as they regarded him in open surprise. It wasn't like him to be so playful, he knew, but he also knew what she wanted from him and he would give it to her, only not quite yet. "You still can't hear me?"

"...no."

She reminded him of a hummingbird. Even though they were no longer touching, he could almost feel how she quivered with anticipation.

"And now?"

She shivered as a finger suddenly traced the outline of her proud, defiant jawbone, not stopping until it was nestled under her chin. They were about the same height (although she wondered why it took her so long to notice that he actually was a bit taller than her), so there was no real, practical need for her to tilt her head back when he kissed her, but for some unexplainable reason she liked it that way. But as she looked into his clear eyes, softly illuminated by the glow of a million stars, she decided that she liked it because he let her.

And that was very important. So what if she still was a bit insecure about how to deal with 'normal' things, and that she had the tendency to be a bit selfish, and perhaps, sometimes, a little on the clingy side, and maybe – just _maybe_ – even a tad needy. Even so, she still had him with her. Sometimes, it puzzled her how Dominic didn't seem to mind, but she was thankful that he didn't.

Then, after what felt like an eternity and when she thought that her patience finally would run out, she felt his lips brushing against hers, gently and carefully. Tonight, there were no teasing demands embedded in his kiss, only warmth and reassurance, and as they broke apart she marvelled over how someone as wonderful as he could possibly love someone as tainted as she.

"What about now?" he breathed into her ear expectantly.

_I love you. I love you. I love you. Mine. Mine. Mine._

"I can hear you perfectly," she murmured back, to which she could feel him smile against her skin before wrapping an arm around her and possessively pulling her closer.

"Good."

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own _Eureka Seven_. Sadly.


	2. Game On

Author's Note:

Imagine a universe where Anemone was rather evil (or at the very least hold the potential to abnormal levels of cruelty and being just about as sensitive to the feelings of others as a rock), even when not shot up on the stuff that the nice men and women dressed in all-white and latex gloves insist is beneficial for her health and general well-being. Now...let that thought sink its claws into your mind and wait for it to take over the realms of your imagination. It's not pretty, is it? Better not go there, huh?

Well, I did and this is the result.

Be afraid, Dominic. Be _very_ afraid.

Disclaimer:

I don't own _Eureka Seven_.

* * *

**Game On**

#

Clearly, it was a game.

She knew beyond all doubt that if she screamed just right, he would come running to her like an attention-starved mutt to its master.

If the situation hadn't been so hopelessly pathetic, she might have felt sorry for the pitiful _creature_ that was supposed to be her caretaker, and who went by the pitiable name of Dominic Sorel.

Sometimes, she wondered what on earth could have possessed Dewey to choose _him_ of all people. But she was confident that even if she couldn't understand them, Dewey had his reasons and that was enough for her – which was why she at least made an effort to be understanding. Yes, sometimes she even made a half-hearted attempt to refrain from hitting the dark-haired young man (who, to be fair, was just a _boy_) over the head when he outstayed his welcome, doggedly invading her personal space and torturing her with his annoying chatter.

At first she had tried to play nice – _all for Dewey's sake_, of course – but only a week after first making his acquaintance, she had given Dominic Sorel up as a lost cause, as she found that it was near impossible to be civil when just looking at him made her blood boil. She didn't know why, but she didn't like him – and she liked his insistence to visit her even less. Besides, she was certain that, although he never showed it, the feeling was mutual. After all, anyone possessing even an ounce of self-respect would hate her after being repetitively kicked, slapped, punched, screamed at and bitten; though that was not to say that he didn't deserve it, because he did.

But to her immense surprise and irritation, Dominic Sorel didn't seem to mind how she treated him. She could insult him, mock him and demand all sorts of impossible things of him, but he just absorbed the damage like some dumb hate-sponge without even a word of protest.

It infuriated her how he never retaliated, no matter what unpleasantries she threw at him.

And he always came back.

In fact, she didn't seem to be able to get rid of him, regardless of what she did or the many tantrums she staged.

In short, his unnatural patience perplexed her, but she was certain that even _he_ had a limit: everyone did, if only one waited long enough... and probed deeply enough.

So she was impatiently waiting for the day when she would finally drive him over the edge; when the stoic Dominic Sorel snapped like a twig, just like the others before him.

But it wasn't until months after she first met him that she realized that her room was bugged. On a routine check-up, her so-called 'doctors' had suddenly insisted on doubling the dose of the poison that they insisted was her medicine, and she had done her best to keep their glove-encased hands as far away from her as possible when no other than Dominic Sorel had stormed into her room unannounced, coldly ordering the squad of white-clad monsters to step away from her – which they did, eventually, while unhappily grumbling something about 'insolent pups overstepping their authority'. Or so she thought. Anyway, it wasn't as if she bothered to remember all the details; she couldn't care less about what they thought or what they said. All that she was interested in was what they planned on doing to her next.

_Freaks_.

She could have thanked him for his efforts, or at least acknowledged his contribution, but instead she had sullenly demanded to know what he wanted and when Dewey would come to visit her. But to her surprise, he had ignored her questions, instead asking her if she was alright before quickly excusing himself and disappearing off to wherever he went when he wasn't insisting on 'keeping her company'.

But after that episode with her doctors, he would sometimes show up when she screeched particularly loudly at some useless attendant – or when her 'doctors' tried unusually funny stuff.

It was all very strange. She was certain that the walls were soundproof, and still he managed to materialize whenever she was particularly upset, and when she least suspected it.

So she decided to put him, and her walls, to the test.

She had chosen a time when the least people would be up and about: namely, in the middle of the night. A few well-acted whimpering noises (which she was quite proud of, since they sounded rather genuine) later, a nervous, sleepy-eyed and uncharacteristically disshelved Dominic Sorel had arrived in her doorway only to be met by her most icy glare for being a nuisance and 'waking her up'.

That was all the proof she needed and when her initial fury over their undignified treatment of her (she doubted that Dewey would allow it, so she concluded that they did it behind his back) finally died down, she realized that she could turn this to her advantage, and amusement, even.

After all, she had reasoned with herself, it was only_ fair_.

She needed some form of entertainment to keep the sluggish boredom, which settled over her like a wet blanket between her training missions, at bay. And as utterly useless as he was, in lack of better material to work with, Dominic Sorel would have to suffice... for the time being.

Soon, after some careful experimentation, she found that 'pervert' and 'lech' caught his attention particularly well, while 'bastard' and 'idiot' not so much. But, she reasoned that she used the latter pair so much anyway, so the novelty must have worn off.

So each time he showed up in her doorway, his face slightly flustered from what she only could imagine was the brisk walk to her room, complete with that small satisfying wrinkle of displeasure on his forehead, she knew that she had won. Again.

And to Anemone, winning was _everything_.


	3. The Visit

Author'sNote: This little piece is based on the last chapter of the manga. The italics are to show where Anemone is thinking.

Disclaimer**: **I don't own _Eureka Seven_.

* * *

**The Visit**

#

"I think I would like to visit him today," the pink-haired woman said softly before quickly adding, "...if it isn't too much trouble?"

"No, it shouldn't be a problem to arrange." The look in the eyes of the notoriously stern doctor softened as she gazed down at her charge thoughtfully. "In fact, I think some fresh air will do you some good, Anemone. But we'll have to wait until the weather clears up; it's still raining and I don't want you to catch a cold. I'll get you when we can go."

"Thank you, Mischa." Anemone nodded before she returned to her book while impatiently listening to the soft patter of raindrops against the nearby windows, which was blending in with the shallow, rhythmical snoring coming from her sleeping pet.

_If it would only stop raining already!_

#

"Lovely weather we're having! It has certainly been a while since we got to see a bit of blue," the doctor observed. "There might even be a rainbow later if we're lucky."

The younger of the two women absentmindedly nodded in agreement, obviously distracted. But her companion didn't say anything; the reason was clear enough.

Although Anemone couldn't deny that it was truly beautiful with the white church surrounded by tidy flowerbeds, trees and shrubbery, the tombstones in their uniform rows on the well-kept lawns that immediately dispelled all feelings of mirth or comfort. At first Anemone hadn't understood at all why people insisted on erecting such weighty monuments when they served only as reminders of death and loss, but she thought that she was finally beginning to understand. The markers were physical evidence for everyone to see that those who rested deep in the earth under their shadow had _existed_ once, and not only in the minds of the grieving.

"...I'll be back to check on you in a while," Mischa said quietly as they came to a halt directly in front of the grave that marked Dominic Sorel's last resting place. Before she let go of the handles of the wheelchair to withdraw to the bench that she normally frequented when waiting for Anemone, she sent the man who had set out to save the whole world for that one pink-haired girl, a quick thought. Even if things had been very difficult for her, especially in the beginning, Anemone was finally doing well both physically and mentally. With some outside help, Mischa had managed to repress the pilot of the feared typeTheEND's maniacal tendencies to a level that her daily dose of medication could be cut by almost half, resulting in a surprisingly quiet and gentle young woman. And even if it was doubtful whether or not she would ever overcome the partial paralysis affecting her lower body, Mischa felt certain that Dominic Sorel would have been happy had he known about Anemone's remarkable psychological transformation.

"Mm-hmm." Anemone inspected the basket of flowers already in place on the flat part of his tombstone with a critical eye, carefully comparing them with the fresh bouquet that was resting in her lap. No doubt, the old would need to be changed. "Thanks..."

Mischa couldn't help but to smile; Anemone seemed so completely absorbed in tending to the grave that the doctor didn't have the heart to tell her that the basket of flowers had cost a small fortune and was arranged in such a way that it would last another week. Instead, she nodded to herself before retreating to her bench, finally leaving the young woman alone with her flowers and her memories.

#

_Hello, Dominic._

_It has been a while, hasn't it?_

And as usual, Anemone envisioned him leaning against the large slab of cold stone in front of her, three locks of unruly dark hair framing the calm in his kind, steel-coloured eyes and gentle smile. This was how she wanted to remember him: happy and at ease. (Not as he _were_, as he had been. Not broken, bloodied and burned. They wouldn't let her see him, but after a fall like that...)

_It's me again. I'm sorry for not having visited much lately. I hope you'll like the flowers. Gulliver helped to pick them out._

_How are you today?_

_Oh? I'm glad._

_As for me, I'm going well, I think, though nothing has really changed since last time. Mischa is here, too, but she has already gone somewhere else so I could talk to you in private. She's considerate like that, and I know I'm lucky to have her. She really takes good care of me, and unlike most other people, she doesn't treat me any differently because of, you know. I've often thought about it, and it's probably because of Eureka, wouldn't you think? Mischa looked after her long before she met me, and now that Eureka isn't here anymore, she has taken it upon herself to be my doctor. Though, she's more like my caretaker, since I still can't do very much on my own. I suppose that I've gotten used to the chair, even if I'll never like it. Mischa says that there is still a small chance that I one day get my legs back, but with all the nerve damage, I can't help to wonder if it's really true... But I try to stay positive; I would like to walk again someday, even if it's far off. It would be nice not having to rely on so many people for everything all the time, especially Mischa._

_I've tried to talk to her about it, you know, but she always looks at me like I'm a complete idiot whenever I suggest there are better things she could devout her time to than me. Like Dr. Bear. But I've yet to say _that_ out loud._

_Hm, I've spoken quite a bit about Dr. Bear, haven't I? He's been helping me and Mischa from the very beginning... though now when I think about it, I don't even know if you ever had the chance to meet him! All this time and I have assumed that you had, when it's just as likely you never did. But how should I describe him then? He's big and fluffy like Gulliver and eats even more sweets than I do, but he's very kind; Mischa told me once that only few people in the world are as intelligent, even though he's a bit strange and doesn't look it at all. I think you would have liked him._

_Oh! He and Mischa were married once! Just imagine my surprise when I overheard a couple of attendants gossiping about it. I mean, Mischa... married?! Although they're divorced now and have been for quite some time from the sound of it, I think she still cares for him in her own way. He's definitely fond of her, and it makes me wonder if it's really fair how things are right now. To be stuck with me like this... Like you were, especially in the beginning, remember?_

_Ah, but maybe everything will be okay after all, because it sort of turned out alright for us in the end, didn't it, Dominic?_

_The new flowers are really pretty like that, don't you think? I finished another sequence yesterday, and an attendant brought me a vase full of them to cheer me up. I like them, and I hope you don't mind them too much even if they're girly pink._

_It wasn't so bad this time, just really boring. Mischa never makes me feel like the test-subject I know I am, but with the Coralians gone and Eureka missing, I'm the closest thing there is. I know how important Mischa's research is, and I want to help her in any way I can – but remember how angry I used to get after the sessions!_

_But that was a long time ago. Besides, it's no good mulling over things you can't change, is it?_

_I'm older now, in any case, and I like to think that I'm a little smarter than what I used to be; especially since not much else about me seems to change. I'm 24, but I haven't grown any taller and even my face has hardly changed at all! Only my hair changes, little by little; it's even less pink now than last time I visited. Mischa thinks that the only reason why it was so bright in the first place was some component to the old medication, which makes sense – you remember the bright red liquid, don't you? Ah, how stupid and forgetful of me! Of course you do: you used to help me with it all the time, back then. But I'm not taking it anymore – haven't for years now – and withdrawal might have caused the colour of my hair to fade, though the only one other than myself to have even noticed is Mischa. It's still really pink and always will be: it's been too long for things to ever really change._

_Sometimes I wonder what my hair colour used to be, in the beginning, before Dewey, the doctors, the tests and everything. Maybe I was blonde or a redhead, even though I wouldn't mind being dark like you; any colour would do, I think, as long as it wasn't a boring old grey._

_The whole world is really full of choices now, isn't it?_

_...though you can't choose everything yourself. Some things are still chosen for you._

_Like my legs_

_It'd been about seven years since I last walked on my own. I don't think about it every day like I used to, but I counted this morning to pass the time; it took almost two hours for the rain to finally stop so I could visit you. Hmm, I know I must have told you this many, many times already and I'm sure you're sick of hearing it by now, but I keep coming back to that moment over and over again. When I woke up after that mission, I was alone. You weren't there, but then Gulliver appeared and people nearby started shouting things, orders and counter-orders. I didn't know what to do; I couldn't find you anywhere and TheEND was missing as well, so I thought you might have taken the kid somewhere. So we left the camp without anyone noticing, to look for you ourselves, and it didn't take very long before we found you. And then we stood there, just staring for the longest time._

_I don't think I've ever seen Gulliver look so sad. He really must have liked you a lot, because he jumped up on TheEND, clawing at the hull with his paws as if he was trying to somehow dig you out of the wreckage all by himself. It was such a strange feeling, watching everything, but I think even then, I knew. All of it – everything – somehow, I just knew._

_Then some people saw us and started shouting something, and that is the last thing I remember before everything just dissolved. Not into black like it does in the movies, but a slow, dirty fog. But after a while, it really must have gone black, because when I finally woke up, I was in some makeshift hospital full of noise and beds and people; it wasn't anything like the big, white, empty ones I used to go to, but it was a proper hospital, not like the one Mischa must have treated me in the first time. She was there, though, when I opened my eyes and according to her, I collapsed from my injuries when Holland – who, it turns out, was Dewey's younger brother! It's strange how everything is connected together, isn't it? – and his people found TheEND._

_Mischa was also the one who eventually told me. After being completely run through by that Coralian antibody, you fell from the sky like a stone; Renton Thurston confirmed as much when he came back. Then, at impact with the ground below, they think whatever hadn't been broken already was completely destroyed. Things were so bent out of shape that they couldn't even pry open the hatch to get to you. Not at first, anyway. But we've talked about this already, too. _

_Many, many times. Too many times._

_Even so, there are still a million things I would like to know. Did you know? Did you see it? See it coming towards you? Or did it attack you from the rear? And what ran through your mind, your blood, that split second before it tore through TheEND? What was it like when the controls stopped obeying you commands and the kid faltered? Did you think about anything? Your life? Your friends? Your mission? Did you have time to reflect or was everything just a blur?_

_Perhaps it is selfish of me, but I guess that what I'm really asking is if you thought about me._

_Oh, Dominic... You stupid, stupid idiot! What on earth possessed you to volunteer to something so dangerous in the first place! You must – must – have known that Renton Thurston in the Nirvash would be near unbeatable on his own! You were good, Dominic, but you weren't trained for this, to be a pilot. Not even TheEND and I could match them, remember? I know you would never have done it without good reason, I just wish..._

_Ah~ But what is the use of wishing?_

_You know, I don't think I ever told you before, but I once overheard one of the mechanics at the base saying that it looked as if TheEND was smiling somehow and that it really creeped him out. I didn't understand what he meant back then, but with the kid there on the ground, all twisted and broken and with bits and pieces missing from all over... I think I saw what that man had seen, but it wasn't creepy or scary at all. You must have made the kid very happy, Dominic. I don't know why or how, but I could tell – I could! – because TheEND looked almost peaceful, even with all those spikes driven through it._

_I suppose TheEND and I were very alike in that respect: picky about the things we liked. But we both chose you, didn't we?_

_TheEND never danced with anyone else than me and then you. The kid was funny that way, wasn't it? How it used to dance. Do you remember? It danced with you, for you, back at you, all at once._

_Dance._

_We got around to any dancing in the end, did we?_

_To be honest, I don't think I would have been any good. I could dance with TheEND just fine. That was easy, because dancing with the kid was like dancing with myself but bigger. But I don't know if I could have done it very well with another person, or if I could have followed that person's lead without constantly stepping on his toes. But back then, I wanted to try so badly!_

_Could you dance well, Dominic? Did they teach you at the Academy, or did you ask me because you knew I wanted to? That would have been so typical of you, if you did it me._

_Because you did so much for me... didn't you, Dominic? You gave me a name that was only mine, and you showed me that my head wasn't full of straw and that I wasn't just a failed imitation of Eureka, a dummy without a mind of its own, worthless fake. You showed me that I'm _me_ and nobody else._

_Oh, Dominic... it's stupid, but even so, I wish... I wish so, so much—_

"Anemone? Anemone."

The doctor's voice suddenly broke through her thoughts, "It has almost been an hour. It's time to go back."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I kept you waiting..." She looked up at the older woman apologetically before she smiled. "Okay. I'll be ready in just a moment. We need to find Gulliver first."

_I'll see you soon, Dominic. I'll be back before you know it._

_It's a promise._


	4. House Arrest

Author's Note: Imagine that our favourite couple never professed their love for each other (or kissed) and subsequently never got together like they did by the end of the animated version. Okay? Okay. So this is a sweet-nothing revolving around Dominic, an admittedly OOC-naive Anemone and ice lollies, written dominantly from Dominic's POV.

Disclaimer: Maa, I don't own _Eureka Seven_.

* * *

**House Arrest**

#

It was an ordinary evening in the makeshift Anemone-Dominic household, and peace was settling over the apartment complex for the night; dinner had since long been cooked by Dominic to be greedily devoured by Anemone, and like any other evening they had withdrawn to the living room to lazily digest the meal, the pink-haired of the two immediately pouncing on the sofa, quickly spreading her lithe body across its thick cushions to gleefully claiming it as hers. Dominic, on the other hand, had retreated to his usual armchair closest to the lamp, laptop perched on his knees and impatiently drumming his fingers against the hard black casing as he waited for the familiar logo to appear on the still-dark screen.

_Come on, come on..._

As much as he enjoyed living with Anemone in such close quarters, Dominic had always found inactivity to be the absolute worst kind of pastime, and despite of his pretty companion's impressive knack for creative and time-consuming requests, boredom and uncertainty were beginning to take their toll on his nerves – if someone would _please_ just tell him what the hell was going on!

Indeed, certain, principal events leading up to the Second Summer of Love had turned everything that Dominic had ever known completely on its head, and he found it especially difficult to adapt to the many insecurities left in their wake. Of course, he had known that once everything was over and done with, he would have no life to return to; rather, assuming that he was one of the lucky ones, he would have to build himself a new one from scratch. But this never bothered him, since the alternative had been to lose Her forever, which naturally wasn't an option: he would gladly throw away his past many times over if that was the sacrifice required of him to prevent their separation from ever happening.

Unfortunately, this didn't change the fact that being placed under house arrest really was utterly pointless and so damned _provoking_ in so many ways.

Dominic glanced over at the lovely creature occupying the full length of their sofa, and he couldn't help but to smile through his annoyance at the sight of her. She was resting flat on her back, her feet propped up against the cream-coloured wall and arms spread widely apart on the plump cushions, and with her long pink hair spilling over the side, nearly touching the floor. But what caught his attention was not the unorthodox position, but the unmistaken calm over her features. Even as she was hanging off their sofa, basically upside-down, Anemone looked truly at peace; her eyes were closed and the puffs of hot air escaping from her half-open mouth were shallow but even.

He swallowed hard, barely resisting the sudden urge to drop the laptop on the floor in favour of launching himself forward towards the sweet pair of cherry lips, which were offered to him so innocently, to—

_Wait. _No_._

Dominic ran his hands through his unruly hair as to physically rid his mind of the indecent thoughts that had entered his head quite uninvited. Only that the actually ridding himself of anything wasn't going so well.

His efforts to maintain even the appearance of basic civility were then interrupted by a three-note jingle, indicating that his laptop at last had come to life, and he was relieved to shift his focus away from the sleeping beauty on the sofa to his email account.

**[No new messages]**

After harassing the refresh button a few more times just to be certain, Dominic heaved an irritated sigh. Still no news and his patience with the Establishment was wearing dangerously thin.

Once again he let his eyes wander to Anemone, who so far had shown no particular reaction to their loss of freedom. At first, her blatant disinterest in their situation had bothered him a little, but then he had supposed that to someone who had been confined to empty rooms and loneliness for most of her life, this wasn't much different from what she was used to; while he, on the other hand, was pacing back and forth over the floors of their secure accommodation like a caged animal.

But it was absurd. Just for how long were they planning to keep them like this, anyway?

After Renton Thurston and his Eureka somehow saved them all with the Second Summer of Love, no one had really known what to do; Dewey had destroyed The Council of Sages, the capital lay in ruins and people were lacking even the most basic necessities like food, water and shelter. In the end, a state of emergency was declared under the flimsy pretext that only the military was equipped to provide any effective aid to the thousands of citizens in need. Of course, in actuality, martial law had been established – and also grudgingly accepted by the faceless shadows stalking the corridors of powers – for the sole reason that it was the only system that could be properly regulated, with the other usual ruling bodies either dismissed by Dewey Novak or effectively exterminated by the same.

Yes, Dominic had foreseen this particular development with ease, though he could never have predicted that the swiftly reinstated, cat-loving General Kajim would be so efficient at his job. Media was reporting massive relief efforts that seemed genuine enough, but while everyday life was returning to some sort of normality, the extensive cleaning up of the mess behind the scenes was only just getting started. From what he understood from Captain Jurgens, the entire U.F Force stood to be scrutinized (by _whom_ or _what_ was anyone's guess at this point) for its involvement and cooperation with Dewey's plans, and what remained of the SOF had been disbanded until further notice: bureaucracy alone ensured that the process would drag on for years to come.

And as Dewey Novak's former lieutenant and commanding officer of the SOF, Dominic knew that he stood to be court-martialled for his personal connection to Dewey, the TheEND project and ultimately the implementation of the Ageha Plan. This was all quite straightforward; what complicated matters was that Dominic had committed high treason by abandoning his command at the SOF and defecting to the rebels on the Gekkostate, who had opposed Dewey and his plans from the very beginning. Distributing and redistributing responsibility, fault and due punishment was therefore a rather thorny issue, and he supposed that he couldn't seriously blame whoever the unfortunate souls in charge of his case if they had no idea what to do with him – and any less Anemone, a gene-manipulated experiment that had piloted TheEND out of no real will of her own.

But all things duly and carefully considered, his best guess was that they eventually would be stripped of their respective military ranks and let go in disgrace. Still, he knew from experience that the most difficult cases were usually deal with last, and he and Anemone were definitely pushing the boundaries of what might be considered 'difficult'.

Though, that did in no way mean that he couldn't try to speed up the process.

So he decided to compose yet _another_ email to General Kajim to ask him to investigate them as soon as humanly possible, so the damn wait finally could come to an end and he could start preparing their defence cases and _do_ _something_.

"Dominic."

Anemone had cracked open an eye to watch the young man she had known since she was just a little girl, and who's calming, strangely eternal presence had been part of her for so long that she couldn't seriously imagine a life without him.

"...uh, yes?" he replied, not taking his eyes from the email message in front of him.

"I want something."

"Is that so?" Dominic didn't dare to raise his sight above the top of the computer screen, fearing that attention would only encourage her. Perhaps, if he sounded disinterested enough, then _perhaps_ her request would go away by itself so he could finish the blessed message and send it off through virtual space. "But we had dinner less than half an hour ago."

"Dominic, _please_," she pleaded in a voice that made it impossible for him to ignore her any further.

"Yes?" he inquired somewhat reluctantly when he finally met her steady gaze. "What is it?"

"I still want something," she insisted, impatiently with a small pout, and Dominic swore that she was doing it purpose.

"...I suppose that there's no helping it," he sighed as he regretfully closed the lid to his computer. Years of experience had taught him that the chances of getting anything of importance done in the presence of a peckish Anemone was close to absolute zero, so he might as well give up and do what she asked while he was still in possession of his dignity. "What would you like, then? It's getting late, but I could call down to the kitchen for a sandwich."

"Dominic." Anemone sensed that her friend was agitated, even though he tried so hard to keep his feelings from her, so she smiled her sweetest smile before she continued, "Dominic, could I have an ice lolly?"

"_An ice lolly_?" he repeated, and from the sudden inquisitive look in his eyes, she arrived at the satisfying conclusion that the smile indeed had done the trick. Dominic no longer seemed as annoyed, though he was looking at her with a slightly befuddled expression on his face, as if her request had actually surprised him. Adorable.

"Yes," she confirmed with a slight tilt of her head.

"But of course you may, why are you asking _me_—oh."

He stopped mid-sentence when realization dawned on him. Anemone hadn't asked for his permission; _oh_ _no_, far from it. She had asked him to _deliver_ one to her, and he had totally fallen for it.

"A red one, please," she smiled serenely, well-aware of the fact that unconditional victory was securely within her grasp. "Strawberry is my favourite!"

After carefully putting the now-hibernating laptop on the floor, Dominic got up from his seat to go to the freezer and retrieve said lolly. "I'll be back in a second."

"Thank you!" she called after him, quite happily, as he disappeared down the hall in direction of their small, private kitchen.

#

"Here you go."

He threw something at her, and she squealed when the hard, brightly coloured lolly made contact with her T-shirt clad stomach.

"C-Cold!" she exclaimed before proceeding to noisily attack the wrapper.

Then silence prevailed mostly unchallenged, with the only real interruptions to the peace being the soft tapping of fingers flying over a computer keyboard, until Anemone decided to speak. "So have they decided what to do with us yet?"

"No," mumbled Dominic in reply, "it would seem that it's still pending."

"How boring," she sighed, holding the red-coloured ice lolly up to the light and regarding it thoughtfully before popping it back into her mouth. "They're so slow."

"Mm-hmm," he muttered in agreement.

"Dominic?"

"...yes?"

"Why don't you like ice lollies?"

This was unexpected. The question was unusual even for her and before Dominic could think better about it, he asked, "What makes you think I don't?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Maybe because I've never seen you eat even one?"

"It's not that I don't like them," he said. "I just never seem to get around to it."

"And why's that?" she persisted.

"_That_, Anemone," he said lightly, "is because they're always gone before I can. You know, that thing in your hand is the last strawberry lolly. Now there are only orange flavoured ones left."

"_Orange_?" She shot up from her horizontal position with a start. "Eww! I _hate_ orange!"

Dominic smiled. "I know you do."

After all, he had only known her for years and years, and was thus very well acquainted with all of her likes and dislikes. "I don't particularly like that flavour either," he added.

"So what flavours _do_ you like then?" Anemone was regarding him intently as if he was the single most interesting thing in the known universe, and he couldn't say that he wasn't enjoying the undivided attention.

"Blueberry, banana, raspberry and grape are all quite tasty." Dominic was counting them off on his fingers before returning his attention back to the laptop screen. "Strawberry isn't too bad, I guess... It's just the orange that tastes absolutely atrocious! Too strong and artificial, I think."

"And now there are no good ones left, because I got the last one," she said. "Poor, _poor_ Dominic!"

At the last part, Dominic once again looked up from the screen, only to find that Anemone no longer was lounging on the sofa but instead was leaning over him.

"A-Anemone, w-what are you _doing_?" he squeaked, barely noting that his voice had risen well above two octaves above its normal range, but thankful that somehow he had successfully refrained from twitching or flying four feet into the air. "Ah, I mean, uh, aren't you a bit... close?"

"You're strange," she observed soberly, still refusing to remove herself from his face. "And here I thought I would do you a favour and share."

"...share?" he asked, this time managing to sound somewhat normal. "Share _what_, exactly?"

"The ice lolly," she explained as if it was the most natural thing in the world. "Since this was the last one."

"That's, uh, nice of you. But, eh, Anemone, you can't since you ate it alread—hmphf!"

She suddenly interrupted him with a quick peck to the lips, and for a glorious few seconds his senses were completely overwhelmed by soft pink, sweet warmth and the faintest taste of strawberries.

After they broke apart and she returned to her sofa, all he managed was a stupid-sounding, "Ah."

"So what do you think?" She looked at him expectantly. "Well? Good, wasn't it?"

He stared blankly at her, not entirely sure if she was referring to the ice lolly or the kiss.

"The _flavour_, of course!" Now the expectant look had been replaced by indications of slight annoyance. "...duh!"

"Oh, that," he breathed, undecided on whether or not he was thankful or disappointed of her ignorance about the implications of the gesture. "It was, uh, delectable, even better than I remember."

"Too bad we're out, then." She frowned. "I don't like the ones we have left."

"I can call for new ones tomorrow," he offered after a moment. Honestly, though, it wasn't as if he really had a choice in the matter.

"Thanks, Dominic!"

And a second later, the pink whirlwind phenomenon that was Anemone had breezed out of the room, but not before landing a soft thank-you peck on his cheek, leaving him feeling positively dazed.

_Two _kisses in_ one _night_._

Dominic stared blindly at the screen, then closed the lid of the laptop, ignoring the warning that his unfinished message would _not_ be saved.

On second thought, maybe house arrest wasn't such a bad thing after all.


	5. Just a Toy

Author's Note

A short drabble about an apathetic Anemone's thoughts on Dominic, anemones, hope and her own existence. I'm experimenting with different styles of writing, so bear with me!

Disclaimer

I don't own _Eureka Seven_.

* * *

**Just a Toy**

#

Despite of what others must think when they witnessed them together on a particularly bad day, it wasn't as if she hated him. But she didn't like him either. Rather, she was indifferent – completely neutral – to his existence. He was just a toy, a useless thing given to her by Dewey to amuse and be abused at her will.

That was how it was:

Nothing less and definitely, definitely nothing more.

He was a toy.

Just a toy.

Her toy.

But then he had given her those blasted flowers.

_**Anemones**_.

_Symbols of dying hope._

Reminders of her failure to destroy the enemy LFO.

Reminders of how she was failing Dewey.

Dominic insisted that he hadn't known what they were or what they meant and that he had picked them because he thought that they were pretty.

She believed him.

This was the kind of harmless ignorance that she had come to expect from him and hadn't she been so weighed down by the burdens of repetitive failure, and her mind so clouded with pain, medication and humiliation, she might have smirked at his embarrassing incompetence.

But she was beginning to feel so, so tired.

And even if she bothered to explain things to him, it wasn't like he could ever understand how—

No, that was impossible.

After all, what did he know?

He was just a stupid toy.


	6. My Stats

Author's Note

AU + Anemone + Dominic + adolescence = _fluff_, _fluff_, _fluff_.

Oh. And beware of some _very_ crack family arrangements.

* * *

**My Stats**

#

Dominic Novak was slumped over the cluttered desk in his room, utterly absorbed by the contents of the previous year's yearbook. He was supposed to work on his stats homework, which was due to be collected in the next day, but his attention was somewhere else entirely. Not that he was worried about his grades, though; statistics and school-related things in general, had never posed any problems for him, much to the chagrin of his older brother Holland who was considerably much cooler. And who had insisted to their parents that they should just rename Dominic 'Nerd Boy' ever since he placed first on the end of the year exams back in fifth grade. Anyway, judging by the overall level of difficulty of the problems on the first page of the maths packet he was supposed to complete, it wouldn't be too difficult to finish it up later, because right now, he was focusing on much more important things.

Like the beautiful girl with long, silky hair smiling up at him from the glossy page of his yearbook that lay open in front of him.

**[Class 10E: Anemone Thurston]**

He slowly read out loud the contents of the little box of text underneath her picture, savouring each syllable of her perfect name.

Now, if anyone had stomped into his room right there and then and commented on how fantastic she looked in that old picture, Dominic wouldn't have hesitated even for a second to inform the ignorant loser that it was _nothing_ compared to how incredible she looked in real life, every single day at school:

Anemone Thurston, class 11B, the most perfect being Dominic had ever seen and the unrivalled _queen_ of the junior class at Nirvash High.

In fact, she was so perfect that she was totally beyond the reach of someone like him: she was the vibrant, popular cheerleader captain with the whole school at her feet, while he was the quiet bookworm sitting in the corner and playing the clarinet in the marching band. And there was absolutely no way that someone like her could ever end up with someone like him, not until thirteen somehow ceased to be a prime number or Dominic got less than an A on any given academic trial.

In other words, the mere notion of it defied logic and would never, _ever_ happen.

Despite having admired her from afar ever since their kindergarten days, he doubted that she knew his name or even who he was. So far, she had shown no signs whatsoever of being aware of either as she sashayed past him in the halls, courted by the usual crowd of cool guys, popular girls and wannabe friends.

Life could really be so darn _unfair_ sometimes!

Suddenly a mighty guitar lick broke through the contemplative silence, causing Dominic to jerk up from his hunched-over state and nearly falling off his swivel chair. Then, only second later, a loud, familiar voice filled his ears and room.

'_She's got a smile that it seems to me_...'

While it was clear that his phone was ringing from somewhere, Dominic couldn't for the life of him remember where he had actually put it when he came home from school.

'..._where everything was as fresh as the bright blue sky_...'

He followed the sound to his unmade bed, but it was still not a trace of his Sony Ericsson. Damn it, this was bad: if he didn't find his phone soon, Holland would probably kill him for causing a racket and Dominic didn't put it past his easily peeved older brother to then ask Eureka to clean up the mess for him. And to think that the smug bastard was only a year older than him and still managed to boss him around all the time like some—ah.

_Bingo_.

As he rummaged through his crumpled navy blue sheets, his left foot had hit something small and hard on the floor under his bed.

'..._she takes me away to that special place_—'

"Yeah, hello?" he said, holding up the sleek phone to his ear and hoping to God that it wouldn't turn out to be Gidget wanting to copy off his English homework again. He had regretfully helped her out once back in their freshman year and hadn't been left alone since.

"Um, hi there! This is Dominic's phone, right?" A high-pitched, cheerful voice met his ears, though much to his surprise, it sounded rather nervous. "...Dominic Novak's?"

"Yes. This is Dominic speaking," he replied a little too impatiently, reluctant to reveal his curiosity. While it definitely was a girl calling, he couldn't match the voice to any of his closer female friends. "I'm sorry, but who is this?"

"Oh. It's, eh, Anemone."

"..._Anemone_?" he repeated stupidly before the full implications of this particular name hit his brain with the speed of a freight train in rush hour. _Oh_. _My_. _God_, Anemone. Anemone Thurston, _the_ Anemone Thurston, was there somewhere on the other end of the line, and for some inspired, inexplicable reason, _she_ _was_ _calling_ _him_.

Dominic suddenly felt alarmingly lightheaded but extremely happy. Clearly, this was the singular moment that his entire life until now had been leading up to.

_Breathe_, he urged himself. _Just breathe, act cool, don't babble and everything will turn out okay_. _Probably_. _Maybe_.

"Um, so this is awkward. Maybe I should have introduced myself properly, huh." The voice sounded genuinely apologetic. "This is Anemone Thurston. We're in the same math class."

"Yeah, I know..." he replied, rather too breathlessly. Of course. _Everyone_ knew who Anemone Thurston was and what classes she took. This, however, did in no way explain why they were currently talking or how on earth she had managed to get hold of his number. "But how—?"

"Oh, that. I got your number from Renton, my little brother. He knows your sister Eureka, nothing creepy." She paused for a moment. "I think they're in the same homeroom or something."

"And they also have chemistry, physics and history together."

He had already corrected her when he realized how weird it must sound for him to know his sister's and her brother's coinciding schedules so well. "...or, eh, something like that," he added in a lame attempt to make his slip-up less apparent.

Though that was not to say that Dominic Novak didn't have good reason to keep close tabs on Renton Thurston, because Anemone Thurston's brother or not, the freshman boy was a truly pesky little kid who was polluting Dominic's life by insisting on running after his sister. Naturally, Holland was being totally unhelpful and un-big-brother-like about it as usual and just laughed at the obvious crush; Dominic had even caught him whispering something about 'being careful' and 'using protection' to a horrified Eureka once, whereas he, on the other hand, felt rather concerned about the development of their deceivingly innocent relationship. After all, who knew what kids their age got up to nowadays and there really was _no way_ that someone with Dominic's principles would just sit back and relax while Renton Thurston did who-knew-what to his innocent little sister.

"Uh-huh. Well, I'm sorry for calling like this, but I sort of have a statistics question and you're really good at maths. So, uh, you know..."

"_Oh_."

He couldn't help but to sound a little bit disappointed, which was _nothing_ compared to how disappointed he felt on the inside. But, really, what _else_ could he have expected her to call him for, if not to pick his brain about some homework or another? Oh well. At least she had called him, and not Jobs or Woz. So he would just have to start counting his blessings a little bit more carefully, that was all.

"I usually do fine on my own, you know." The voice on the other end of the line had assumed a slightly defensive tone, as if she somehow had guessed the thoughts that were running through his mind. "But Miss Mischa gave us pretty tough work this time and I've been really busy with cheerleading practises lately. There's a big competition coming up."

Clearly, he had made Anemone Thurston uncomfortable and he was fervently thinking about something to compensate for that fatal mistake, but the best he could think of was a stupid and direct, "Eh, yeah, I heard. So, uh, what problems do you need help with?"

"I've done most of it already, on my own, but number eighty-five is _really_ hard."

Dominic exhaled a shallow, quiet sigh of relief. The immediate crisis seemed to have been averted, and now to the stat problem at hand... He quickly ripped out the thick maths packet from somewhere underneath the yearbook with little concern over tearing any of its pages (which, thankfully, didn't happen). Hmm, even though it wasn't as obviously straightforward as the preceding problems, number eighty-five really wasn't too bad at all.

"This isn't very difficult if you think about it as a normal distribution," he said, trying very hard not to let it slip just how smug he was feeling at that precise moment. Oh man, what was he even trying to do? Impress her with his amazing math skills?

"Normal distribution, huh..." He could almost hear the wheels inside her head turning as the dead line told him that she was thinking about it. "Ohhh. Wait, get it! You're right, Dominic, it really wasn't that hard at all!"

"Most things are when you know what to do," he said in an attempt to undermine his own efforts a bit and not make a big deal of his her inability to find the answer herself in the first place, though not too much. A bit of glory and attention once in a while was nice. _This_ was nice. Actually, _everything_ was nice right now. So screw the phone bill: he wanted this conversation to last forever and ever, even if it was about something as impersonal as math homework. "So, eh, any other problem you want to ask about?"

"Mm..." She sounded hesitant and he could hear her flip through some papers. "Not really. I mean, yeah, there is. But they're really similar to eighty-five and you helped me with that already."

"Oh. Alright." He prepared himself for a quick goodbye and a long night of analysing everything she had said to death for possible hidden meanings. "Then I guess—"

"Um, actually, sorry, there's one more thing."

"...yeah?" Dominic nearly cringed. His definitely sounded _way_ too hopeful to be normal. "Eh, what is it?"

"Listen, I don't want you to think I called you just because I wanted your help with my homework." She paused then added, "Got that?"

He had never heard THE Anemone Thurston sound even marginally bothered before, but if he was to make a wild guess on what a marginally bothered Anemone Thurston might sound like, this was pretty damn close. Still, _if you didn't want my help, then why did you call me?_ was what he wanted to ask but naturally didn't. Instead, he kept quiet, hoping that she would elaborate on her own.

"I mean, yeah, I needed your help and all, but..." She sounded positively bothered now, but something prevented him from coming to her aid. He wanted to hear whatever it was that she wanted to say come from her own mouth without any interference. "I mean, it's not like, you know... Hey! Are you still there?"

"Yeah, I still am," he admitted at last, feeling just a tad disappointed by the sheer inexactness of her statement.

"Oh! I know!" From the sudden burst of enthusiasm in the tone of her voice, she could easily have fooled him into believing that she had just discovered a way for humans to fly or something. "Let's do lunch tomorrow!"

"..._lunch_?" he repeated, again, utterly dumbfounded. Of all things, he had not seen food coming and he could feel his brain go into shock as it struggled to process this new piece of information. "T-Tomorrow?"

"It'll be my treat, okay?" Dominic was now afraid of a complete meltdown. "Yeah!" the voice continued with infectious cheer. "Think of it as a thank-you for totally saving my math grade – as repayment, you know? I don't like owing people."

Dominic really didn't know what to say: Anemone Thurston eating lunch with a Nobody like him? Wasn't she afraid to damage her reputation and stuff? But then he remembered that Anemone was just about as unpredictable as a loose cannon, and that she had never seemed bothered about what other people thought. Maybe it was all that confidence and self-assuredness, which seemed to come so naturally to her, which made her so freaking amazing. It always had, even when they were younger.

"But you don't have to if you don't want to," she snapped when he didn't reply as readily as she expected.

Oh no. She sounded really pissed off now and Dominic hurried to rectify the situation. "No! I mean, no, that's not what I meant at all. Eh, I mean, lunch would be great. Thanks."

"Good. Then it's decided," she chirped and he let out another silent sigh of relief. "I have to go now, but I'll see you in class tomorrow morning, okay? Let's hope Miss Mischa is in a good mood when she grades our homework."

"Yeah. Eh, night, Anemone," he said at last, immediately regretting adding on the last part. Had the 'night, Anemone' been too much? Too daring? Too personal, somehow? Just because he had helped her out once, it didn't mean that they _knew_ each other or anything.

He had no way of knowing how she would react to that sudden familiarity, and it terrified him, though he really needn't have worried. His awkward sentence was followed by an easier, much softer version:

"Night, Dominic."

And that short but oh-so-so-sweet farewell rendered him absolutely speechless. How could those simple words sound so perfect when they came out of her mouth?

But never mind that when Anemone Thurston knew his name and would be eating lunch with him the next day. He had to be the luckiest damn person alive.

It was only two hours after that fated phone call that Dominic finally snapped out of his glorious daze and realized that it was almost midnight... and that he still hadn't started on his own homework.

* * *

End note: Oh dear, high school really is a difficult time and place, isn't it? Anyway, first of all, forgive the bizarre family arrangements, but writing Holland, Dominic and Eureka as a dysfunctional trio and having Renton be Anemone's little brother... Need I say more? It's just a shame that I couldn't fit Dewey in there somewhere, but I thought it might be a bit _too_ crazy if I did. I might play around with it some more in the future, though. Everything goes under artistic licence, right?

I also changed everyone's ages by quite a bit: Holland is, of course, the oldest of the merry bunch, but only a senior in high school so he could have noticed the development between freshman twosome Eureka and Renton with his own eyes; Anemone and Dominic are, as you probably deduced for yourself, juniors; and Gidget, Woz, Jobs and (Miss) Mischa as fellow students and their mathematics teacher respectively.

And as for the MAJOR OOCness going on just about everywhere, it's completely intentional and I hope it was funny, because – oh, boy, let me tell you! – it was absolutely hilarious to write Dominic as a jumpy, melodramatic teenager being pissed off at Holland's 'un-big-brother-like' ways (personally, I think Holland in fact would be a pretty cool older brother, albeit fully capable of the 'be careful and use protection' line) and worrying about Eureka and Renton's first tentative attempts at a relationship when he's just a kid himself AND harbouring similar feelings for Anemone. So I didn't want to ruin the good mood by making Anemone too selfish and manipulative and using my rights as the author, she's just your average brat with a good heart. I hope you liked her.

On an entirely different note, I don't want anyone leaving this one-shot feeling like I've clamped down on any of the (stereotypical) social groups typically found in any given high school. I mean, I like math, am probably a bit dorky and have proudly done my bit for several bands. I also have lots of so-called 'popular' friends that all are lovely, lovely people. So there, I've said it: I'm only playing off the usual generalizations for the comical effect, nothing more and nothing less. Cool, I'm glad we've cleared that up.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Eureka Seven_ or Guns 'N Roses' _Sweet Child of Mine_.


	7. Emptiness

Author's Note: Anemone's thoughts about feeling empty, set at the end of the anime series. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I don't own _Eureka Seven_.

* * *

**Emptiness**

#

After everything was said and done, and once everyone who needed saving had been saved, she felt strangely empty:

TheEND was gone. Dewey was dead. The military complex – her _home_ – shut down indefinitely.

She had absolutely nothing to return to.

And yet, everything around her was changing, adapting, constantly moving. Outside her window, a whole new world was slowly taking shape, and she could only watch in stunned silence as nobody was dying.

It would seem that Eureka and Renton Thurston would get their happy ending after all.

They were supposed to be travelling, exploring the world together. Eureka had written about dusty roads and something she called 'camp fires', and there had been no return address on the back of the yellow envelopes. Not that it mattered much. They weren't like sisters, or even friends; their correspondence was sporadic at best.

But she supposed that she was glad for their sake. Eureka and her boyfriend had endured so much to be together that it only seemed fair.

Once upon a time, she would have scoffed at the foolishness, but not now. Not anymore.

Love was funny that way. It was neither the sparkly magic she had read about in books nor did it transform ugly ducklings into beautiful swans, but something about it _changed_ people. And love made her feel less hollow inside; somehow, it soothed the dull ache left behind by the pieces of her that were missing, and she didn't hurt as much anymore.

Even so, the emptiness remained, because whenever she looked in the mirror, she saw a weapon steadily growing duller with neglect and disuse.

They never spoke about their lives from before or what had been. Instead, they busied themselves with the goings-on of today, making plans for the days still waiting for them beyond the sunrises of endless tomorrows. There was never any real need to talk about the past: he knew her life's story like it was his own, and she knew the essential components of his. But more than that, she suspected that neither he nor she was ready to admit that despite the many evils of that man's twisted delusions, they both looked back on their time with Dewey Novak with pride. Speaking about him would force them to denounce him and his deeds, and to deny their debts to the man who singlehandedly raised them from nothing and gave them everything.

Certainly, she would be lying if she said that she didn't miss soaring through the air: effortlessly, beautifully and high above the heads of everyone else. Back then, she had been Anemone, Dewey's favourite and the pilot of the Federation LFO Nirvash typeTheEND. They had hailed her as a hero, a champion of hope. If only for a preciously short while, she had been admired, adored and undefeated.

But now, while she was still 'Anemone', her purpose in life – insofar that she had ever really had one – was gone, spent, _over_.

She would never pilot again, and there were no more enemies for her to engage.

_They_ had no further use for her.

She was obsolete.

A humanoid-yet-not-quite-human, an alien-yet-not-quite-Coralian, she existed somewhere in between – separate even from Eureka – as the only one of her kind.

_Unique_, was what she once had thought of herself. _Special_. _Extra_ _awesome_. _Worthy_.

But that was a long, long time ago.

She now knew that she possessed no natural place in the world, being no more than a freak accident, the result of the science project of a madman.

After all, she shouldn't even be alive.

So when everything was supposed to be over, she felt strange and empty; and she had relied on Dominic to do what he thought was best.

Then a letter had arrived, informing her that her case finally had been evaluated. Despite the demise of her LFO and Drs. M. Egan and G. Egan's joint efforts to lessen her reliance on her daily drug injections, the panel of experts responsible for her fate had deemed her 'a potential threat to national security'. Apparently, she was a violent manic-depressive with paranoid tendencies, emotionally unstable at best and a frenzied murdered if left alone to her own devices – and as such she should immediately be placed in protective custody. Or _solitary_ _confinement_, if one bothered to read between the lines.

She had expected as much, and still it filled her with apprehension. But it was not the loneliness she dreaded – after all, she had been alone for most of her life and was well-versed in solitude – it was the obedient resignation in his eyes when he would tell her that he was sorry that she did _not_ wish to see.

'_Dominic, they have decided_,' she had said at last one evening, looking away. '_They... They're taking me back_.'

'_Over my dead body_,' he had snarled in reply, snatching the letter from her hands and a few seconds later, irregular pieces of military-issued confetti were littering the floor of their apartment. '_You're not going anywhere without me_.'

His uncharacteristic outburst marked the beginning of a long, stubborn tug-of-war for her freedom, and he had fought for her tooth and nail.

She had never seen him so angry as when he returned home from one of his many meetings with their board of superiors – not even when her private squad of scientists and doctors had dragged her off for an unscheduled modification, or when Dr. Diamond and his henchmen experimented with the Compact Drive until she lost consciousness from the excruciating pain – and it made her wonder if, perhaps, she had misjudged him; even though Dominic Sorel was not particularly prone to barking, it would seem that he certainly knew how to bite.

'_I suppose that I'm rather tolerant_,' he had smiled in explanation when she had told him as much. '_But there are certain things in life that are worth getting upset about._'

'_Things like me?_' she had teased mischievously, hoping to coax forth a blush, or at least a stutter or two.

'_Well. Yes, Anemone_,' he had answered, undeterred by her efforts. '_You don't think I'm not so rotten that I'd stand by and do nothing while the woman I love is being dragged off to prison_.'

'_Of course not_,' she had replied with a smile she knew would leave him breathless. '_Because Dominic is the best._'

So while she would always carry with her that strange feeling of emptiness, there were moments when he managed to make her feel almost whole again. She could feel herself changing, slowly but surely, little by little, for each successful medical check-up and for each of Dominic's proud smiles when she lasted a few more minutes longer without an injection.

Shedding her heavy armour and letting go of one identity in order to embrace another was frightening and exhilarating all at once, and she was grateful that she wasn't alone. She still didn't know for certain, but perhaps, maybe she wasn't as empty as she thought.


	8. Child

Author's Note: This one's a bit different from the other one-shots thus far in that it's told from neither Dominic's nor Anemone's points of view. Instead, I decided to let TheEND speak and the piece centres on the thoughts and observations of the infamous Black LFO during the iconic DominicxAnemone scene in the anime (with ample references to the manga, of course). Well, like I said, this one is a bit off of the beaten track, so please let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: I don't own _Eureka Seven_.

* * *

**Child**

#

"_Dominic…? Dominic!"_

After the Child screamed, for a moment, there was nothing; only stillness. Then suddenly and violently, the voice – the one that had only ever existed as a mere whisper – reverberated throughout his entire being with such force that he momentarily forgot even about the Prey.

He was overcome not only by the unprecedented strength and clarity of that voice, which he knew must belong to the Child but could not be recognized as such, but by the Child's overwhelming presence. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced before: somehow, for each irregular, ragged breath and each pounding heartbeat, the walls that had always separated the Child's consciousness from his own were disappearing, one by one, until his mind was filled with an acute awareness of only _her_.

Of his pilot: his Child.

Except, this was the Child no longer; the Child had been but a lurking shadow, scarcely leaving even the smallest imprint. This Other was different. This Other was an existence that rung proud and true and unashamedly – and yet, he somehow understood that it and the shadow was one and the same.

It was the Child, but the Child no longer.

But why? How could it be? What was this Other?

And he called out to this new presence, tentatively reaching out towards the unknown. ..._who? Who are you, Child? _

_Anemone_, a voice replied initially in a timid whisper that gradually gained in strength and confidence until it was a roar. _My name is Anemone. Anemone. Anemone. Anemone. I am me. I am Anemone._

_Anemone_. He considered it carefully while awaiting her next move. _So that is who you are, Child_.

A flood of strange sensations and images rushed through his mind, then: naked white walls and ceilings; sharp smells of clinical nothingness; frail petals of a small, wilting flower; long white hair and the folds of a military cape disappearing behind closing doors; hatred, fear and the white brother that was prey; soft, silky fur against bare skin; a little boy's toothy smile and flushed cheeks; hot tears of anger and frustration held back by tightly shut eyelids; distorted scarecrows twirling through empty halls and long corridors to the sound of distant music; cakes decorated with sweet strawberries with whipped cream; bone-chilling numbness replacing unbearable pain; scratching of pens on paper; distant cheers from an adoring crowd; blood slowly oozing from the broken remains of men, women and children, slowly forming thick pools of red on the ground beneath their bodies; the strange softness in the grey eyes framed by locks of dark, unruly hair; cold latex gloves, hospital beds and solemn faces; the brushing of one pair of lips onto another.

He did not understand their meaning, nor did he comprehend their significance, other than that the fragments belonged to the past of the Child who was the Child no longer; that they belonged to a Child named Anemone.

And yet... despite that he could not know them, the memories belonging to this child who was Anemone were oddly familiar. It was as if he, too, had been present, participating in each moment alongside with the Child: as if once upon a time, he, too, had held a small, defenceless flower in his hands; as if he, too, had fallen asleep to the soft snoring noises originating from the soft lump at his side; and as if he, too, had looked into the calm kindness of steel-coloured eyes.

It was as if there no longer existed any boundaries separating him from her; no clear distinctions as to where one ended and the other started. For a brief moment in time and space, he and this child who was Anemone were one and the same.

* * *

#

"_Dominic! Dominic!"_

When the Child urged them towards the collapsing passageway, breaking pursuit of the Prey, he obeyed without even a moment of hesitation. This Child was determined to reach the tiny speck of life among the rubble before it crashed into the ground below, but even though he could feel it and accept it as a truth, he did not understand why.

So he asked.

_Because he matters_. The Child's reply was immediate. _Dominic matters. That idiot came for me and now he'll die. But I won't let him. I won't!_

And suddenly he understood: his Child, this Anemone, had finally found a purpose, a reason for her to exist in the world.

* * *

#

"_Please, TheEND, hurry! We need to save Dominic!"_

_This Child, this Anemone_, he thought while speeding towards the stubborn flicker of life among the falling rocks, _has chosen to live. This Child has made her choice._

And he knew what needed to be done, what must be done.

_Go_, he urged her gently. _Go to him._

Then he released her, watching from above as she fell through the air.

_Go. Hurry toward your purpose, Child._

* * *

#

He realized then that there would be no escape, not this time, but he had to protect this Anemone—

"_TheEND? TheEND!"_

—because this Child, _his_ _Child_, had chosen to live.


	9. Fair Lady's Honour

Author's Note: A second attempt at an AU + Anemone + Dominic + teenage fluff combination, and even though our leading man doesn't actually make an appearance in this one, Renton does and so does Eureka. Again, I've played around with the characters (their ages, mannerisms, ties to one another, everything), but I hope you might still recognize them from somewhere under all the crackiness. Also, beware of the obscenities; kids nowadays, absolutely no manners or respect for good language no more.

^.^

Disclaimer: I don't own _Eureka Seven_.

* * *

**Fair Lady's Honour**

(otherwise known as **Barbarians at the Gate**)

#

The Thurston family – _his_ family – wasn't exactly what you would call 'conventional', or even 'normal', he'd admit that. 'Eccentric', maybe, if you felt charitable. 'Dysfunctional', if you didn't. But truth to be told – and contrary to the common belief preached every so often by the boy himself – Renton actually didn't mind a whole lot.

Sure, he was stuck with the snottiest sister on the planet, who also happened to be his older twin by a measly twenty minutes (and it wasn't as if she was nice enough to just let that annoying fact alone, either); a widely recognized grouch and old-school son of a bitch for a grandfather, who took his self-appointed mission to instil life's hardest lessons – _and then some_ – on his only grandson _way_ too seriously (while being much, much nicer to said grandson's snotty sister); and a mother who had been dead and departed for quite a while, something both of her children had come to terms with and accepted wasn't her fault _per se_. Her death was, nonetheless, a Very Sad Fact, and one that Renton strongly suspected contributed to their father's reluctance to spend more time at the family home than absolutely necessary.

In fact, neither he nor his sister had seen the old geezer for many years now, but since the Thurston patriarch paid their Academy fees without batting as much as an eyelash at the considerable expense, the siblings were confident that the celebrated scientist was still alive and kicking somewhere. Presumably working his ass off, too, seeing that Adroc Thurston singlehandedly managed to clothe, feed, educate and maintain the three of them in good functional order; which brother and sister in a rare instance of agreement decided was a good and fair conclusion, since they had never seen Axel Thurston do even a day's worth of honest work, like, _ever_.

But despite the frequent bouts of adversity (courtesy of his revered grandpa), heaps of hardship (courtesy of his ever-loving evil twin) and sheer oddness (courtesy of them both), he loved them, goddammit!

So when the sudden scream – decidedly girlish and much anguished – ripped him away from a particularly delicious dream (which had only been a tiny bit sleazy, honest!), Renton was sure that Anemone Thurston was in the process of being murdered, or at least fatally maimed. Normally, he wouldn't have minded the prospect of pending doom, death or disfigurement in connection to the evil wench posing as his genetic counterpart, but that was assuming that _he_ was the one in charge of the plotting thereof. Or possibly Dom, though Renton's best buddy forever was way too forgiving and soft-hearted for his own good.

Now, since that clearly wasn't the case, Renton transformed – after a few seconds of confusion and just a little bit of fumbling – into a baseball bat-wielding sister-avenging machine devoid of mercy.

He reached the closed door to her room in less than five seconds (which would have been a considerably cool and heroic feat hadn't it been for the fact that hers was right next to his) and was about to break the darn thing in when he heard it:

_Giggling_.

This alone should have been enough of a warning, and really, he should have taken a step back from the situation and then simply walked away from it; years upon years of first-hand experience had taught him that nothing good ever came from noise like that. But Anemone had interrupted some pretty sweet goings-on in La-La-Land and Renton was not above demanding to know the heck _why_.

Really, all in all, it would be completely natural if he carefully and delicately slammed the butt of his bat against the wood of the door while politely stating his business.

And Renton Thurston usually went with his instincts.

#

Eureka Zeta, exactly two months and three weeks shy of seventeen, had been rudely awoken by her best friend at a truly unholy hour.

"You must help me!" an all too familiar voice had whined at her through the headpiece of the phone on her bedstand before Eureka had a chance to get her own vocal chords working, to dryly pointing out that Anemone in fact was calling her up at ten twenty-five on a _Saturday_ _morning_. "—please, Eureka, _please_! You have _got_ to come over _right now_! It's an _emergency_!"

It was unusual for Anemone to resort to whining (Eureka's best friend was much too assertive for that), so whatever had happened to trigger the near-hysterics and the sudden phone call, it was likely to be something too big to be ignored. Still, Eureka decided to put her meagre collection of eggs in one basket anyway and give 'Operation: Sooth Panicy Best Friend And Go Back To Sleep' a shot – before she, in all likelihood, would give in to Anemone's demands. Renton claimed that his sister had an uncanny ability to talk anyone into almost anything, and he was probably right.

"Anemone," she had started feebly. "I'm sure it's nothing to—"

"I have muffins," interrupted a voice darkly. "I didn't think I'd need to resort to bribes, but I've got _muffins_, damn it!"

At this point, Eureka hadn't been entirely sure if her still sleepy mind was playing a cruel trick on her or not, so she had paused before enquiring, "Excuse me?"

"I've got muffins." Anemone's voice had been coaxing. "Muffins, you hear? The ones you like."

That did it, and before Eureka had a chance to think it through properly, she had already blurted out, "Carrot and orange muffins with poppy seeds on top?"

"Of course."

Anemone had sounded every bit as triumphant and smug that Eureka knew she was; it was hardly the first time that her best friend had played dirty and used Eureka's great weakness (muffins) against her. But now that breakfast had been secured, she had been rather curious to what was actually going on.

Still, she wanted to let Anemone know that she wasn't overly thrilled by the unexpected summons, and she had sighed before conceding, "Fine. Give me ten."

Then, true to her word and not ten minutes later, a sleepy-eyed, mildly annoyed but very hungry Eureka found herself outside Anemone and Renton's residence. But before she had a chance to ring the doorbell or even knock, the heavy front door was opened with such force that it was a miracle that it hadn't popped off its hinges on the spot.

"Come on!" the (only) woman of the house urged her newly-arrived friend impatiently, hardly giving Eureka enough time to politely excuse her invasion and put her feet into the pink slippers that the Thurston family kept on standby just for her. "The muffins are in my room. I made us some tea, too. Hurry up, slowpoke!"

And such was the unabridged version as to how Eureka found herself perched on top of Anemone's unmade bed, an over-sized tea cup in one hand and a half-eaten carrot and orange muffin with poppy seeds on top in the other, curiously watching her best friend ploughing through the vast contents of her closet, systematically discarding every piece of clothing she got her hands on – all while going through various stages of a nervous breakdown.

"It's no good!" she finally wailed, clutching a nice cream-coloured skirt to her chest. "Eureka, _do_ something!"

"I don't know if I can," Eureka answered her truthfully, feeling a mix of concerned and confused. She wasn't very good with clothes. Sure, she could dress herself alright, but Anemone had always been the more stylish of the two. "You look pretty in everything you wear," she offered. "I'm sure whatever you choose will be just fine."

"Oh thank you, sweetie." Anemone flashed her friend a sad smile. "But I don't want it to be 'just fine'. I want to look just right. You know, absolutely drop-dead _perfect_."

"But why are you going through all this trouble?" Eureka asked after a moment, carefully putting down her tea cup on Anemone's bedside table. "You've hung out before just the two of you, right? So it should be fine then, shouldn't it? Besides, he's not going to care what you wear. He's not like that."

"Yeah, you're probably right," agreed Anemone reluctantly. "But this time, it's different. I can feel it, you know?"

"...I guess." Eureka looked thoughtful. "If I were in your shoes, I suppose I'd feel the same way."

Correctly guessing where this line of thought was going, Anemone decided to put her own problems to the side for the moment in order to better deal with the crazy loon masquerading as her best friend forever.

"I know we've been over this before, but..." She let out a small sigh before venturing closer to the bed and catching Eureka's hands in her own. "Eureka, you're my best friend in the whole world. You know that, right? Don't speak! Just nod."

Eureka immediately nodded her affirmative. Despite their differences (and Anemone's rather dominating character), they had been best friends for as long as Eureka could remember, and she was proud to be the popular cheerleader's sole confidante.

"And I love you and wish you all the happiness in the entire universe." Anemone tightened her grip. "You know that, right?"

Again, Eureka nodded.

"But why the hell did it have to be _him_?!" Anemone finally gave Eureka back her hands in favour of agitatedly pace around the piles of discarded clothes littering her bedroom floor. "_You know_ you could do so much better than that creep!"

"Renton isn't a creep," replied Eureka calmly, ignoring the fact that she was protesting on the behalf of Anemone's own brother. "He's sweet." A soft smile formed over her lips and her eyes assumed a strange, sparkly quality. "That's why I like him."

Anemone felt like she was going to be sick, she really did. But as much as she wholeheartedly resented the idea that the angelic being on her bed had somehow managed to get infected with a stupid crush on her pesky, immature twin (and as if matters couldn't get any worse, Anemone was fairly certain that the damn feelings were mutual, too!), she wouldn't ever do Eureka the injustice of openly gagging at the thought of her and Renton – God forbid and have mercy on the souls of all involved – as a _couple_.

But that did in no way mean that she wouldn't to everything in her power to put an end to the madness and make Eureka see sense.

"No, Eureka. _No_," she stated firmly, pinning down her friend's glazed-over gaze like a hungry cat would a particularly plump and tasty-looking mouse, hoping that this would be enough to put out those damn sparkles. Her effort only managed to make them less pronounced, however, but Anemone supposed that even this was better than nothing.

"Why?" asked Eureka again, looking genuinely perplexed.

"How should I put this...?" Anemone thought out loud before embarking on an explanation that she hoped would appeal to Eureka's quirky sense of logic. "Norb is sweet, am I right?"

"Yes," replied Eureka quite spontaneously. "Norb is very kind to everyone."

"Moondoggie is sweet, too. When he isn't stoned," she quickly amended when Eureka didn't agree as readily as she had hoped. "When he is, he gets annoying. But that doesn't change the fact that he's still a fundamentally sweet person."

Well. Eureka supposed that Gidget's blonde boyfriend could be classed as such, though not in the same selfless capacity as Sakuya's best friend. "Yeah, I guess..."

"Then there's Matthieu. Did you hear about the stunt he pulled last week? Hilda showed me pictures of it during P.E."

Hesitant nodding.

Anemone thought for a moment before admitting, "Heck, even Holland has his moments!"

Enthusiastic nodding.

"But Renton...?" Anemone really hoped that the pest would have paled in comparison to his betters, just as she had intended him to. "Renton is... Renton is..."

"Totally sweet," Eureka maintained with a small smile at the corner of her mouth, which could have been mistaken as peaceful and perfectly harmless hadn't Anemone known better and realized that it was a sure sign that Eureka wouldn't budge.

"AAAAARGHH!" screeched Anemone, throwing her arms ceiling-ward with frustration. "Why are you being so stubborn about this? Renton _isn't_ 'sweet'. He's an annoying little bug asking to be exterminated!"

"We can't help who we fall for," was the sober reply.

Anemone blinked in surprise. "What?"

"What I meant was that you're not one to talk," Eureka clarified with just a touch of smugness. "After all, I clearly remember the first time you met—"

"Eureka!"

Very much against her will, Anemone felt her cheeks go a horrid shade of pink before both girls erupted in a cascade of laughter. But the merriment was cut short by the sound of someone trying to break the door down.

"Barbarians at the gate," muttered Anemone, zeroing in on her bedroom door like a heat-seeking missile.

Eureka said nothing, just looking at it expectantly.

"_Aw what the hell, sis_!" demanded Renton's voice. "_Do you even know what time it is_?!"

"It's almost half twelve, you savage!" Anemone shot back with practised ease. "And watch your mouth! Eureka is visiting so mind your damn manners, or I'll tell gramps!"

There was a brief moment of silence before a pathetically hopeful, "...Eureka is?" could be heard for Anemone to roll her eyes at and Eureka to enjoy (in secret, of course. Anemone was rather sensitive about the whole situation, not that Eureka could blame her for it or anything).

"Yeah," Anemone sighed, knowing that it was a huge mistake to have even mentioned it. "Hey! Wait! Who gave you permission to barge in here? It's _rude_ to enter someone's room without their permission! What are you, a Neanderthal?"

But her brother ignored her, intent on grinning at her guest like the idiot he was.

"Morning, Eureka. Nice to see you."

Anemone shuddered at the almost surreal level of cheer in his voice; though the truly frightening thing wasn't that someone as simple as Renton had the capacity of such an enormously sunny disposition, but that his happiness was freaking _real_.

"It's nice to see you, too, Renton," replied Eureka demurely but with a small blush. "But isn't it a bit too late in the day for wishing each other a good morning?"

"I guess so," the boy agreed before losing himself in her pretty eyes. Man, oh man, this was even better than his dream.

Renton smiled.

Eureka smiled back.

Renton's smile grew about four miles wider.

And so did Eureka's.

_Oh, for the love of_— Anemone could only stare at the deranged fools smiling and making lovey-dovey eyes at each other with poorly hidden disgust before remembering that she had a pretty decent pair of lungs to her disposal and that now might be a good time to use them. "Alright, the staring competition is over! Knock it off, you two! Knock it off, I said! Renton, stop it!"

"You stop it. You're being annoying," grumbled her twin unhappily but breaking eye contact with Eureka nonetheless. As much as he enjoyed looking at Eureka and would gladly do it all day long if he could, he had to admit that his bat for a sister actually had made herself useful for once; Renton wasn't very good at wooing girls, and although this one didn't seem to mind the attention, he wasn't entirely sure that just staring at her was an appropriate course of action.

"And whose fault do you think that is?" grumbled Anemone back, equally unhappy. "What did you want anyway, little brother?"

"Shut it," he snapped, instantly offended. "I came to see what the war cry was all about. So did anything actually happen, or did you just break a nail again?" He winked at Eureka who did her absolute best to look appropriately neutral, pretending that his eyes didn't make her heart race one bit, so Anemone wouldn't accuse her of treachery later.

"Stop ogling my best friend, you creep!" screeched Anemone indignantly, poking her sibling in the ribs with a clothes hanger.

"Ouch! I'm not ogling anyone! What do you take me for?" protested Renton, swatting away the offending torture instrument, feeling very much like the victim of a great injustice. Besides, if he _truly_ had been ogling Eureka just now (like _really_ ogled her, that is) she would have known.

But before he had a chance to further reassure the lady of his heart of his innocence – and to get even with his sister for the damn poking – Renton noticed the open drawers and general mess in his control-freak of a sister's private living space. "Whoa! What happened here? Bomb go off or something?"

"Of course not," huffed Anemone impatiently. "Isn't it obvious? I'm looking for something to wear!"

It took a few seconds for the short explanation to register properly, but even then Renton had no clue as to what it actually meant. Maybe it was code for something, but who knew? Girls were weird. "...say what?"

"I said, I'm looking for something to wear," Anemone repeated, rolling her eyes. "Eureka is helping me to pick something out. _Duh_."

Renton's eyes narrowed with well-founded suspicion. She was up to something, he just knew it.

"Why?" he demanded. "What's the occasion?"

"Nothing", was the snappy reply, which to the untrained ear might have sounded every bit as condescending as usual. But Renton hadn't lived under the same roof as his sister for the last sixteen-going-on-seventeen years for nothing; it was seriously lacking in its normal sharpness, and could only mean that Anemone was planning something. _Heh_. And here she thought she was the smart one.

"Sure it isn't," he snorted noncommittally. "Hey."

"What?" replied Anemone wearily, wishing very much that she had been an only child.

"You're not going on a _date_, are you?"

"That..." Curses! "That is none of your damn business!"

"Like hell it is!" snarled the minutely younger Thurston. "You might be a royal pain in the ass, but you're still my sister." Renton paused, regarding her intently. "So who is this guy, anyway? I know him?"

"Stop it!" protested Anemone angrily. "You have no right to—"

"It's Dominic," mumbled a third party.

"Eureka!" exclaimed Anemone, surprised and utterly scandalized by how readily her own supposed best friend had jumped ships and betrayed her. "How-How _could_ you!"

"I'm so sorry, Anemone," whispered Eureka to Anemone's pink carpet and looking thoroughly ashamed of herself. "I didn't mean to, I swear! It just sort of slipped out."

Well. Anemone had to hand it to her (former) best friend: at least the traitor had the kicked-puppy look down to near-perfection. But that didn't mean jack, though, now that Renton had found out about her date and probably would raise hell about it, so Anemone figured that revenge was fair game.

"'It just sort of slipped out', huh?" she smirked evilly, letting Eureka know that she'd better be prepared for a hard-ass landing, because they'd be going down together. "You'd be surprised at just how _easily_—"

But before she could properly pry open Eureka's closet, pull out all the skeletons she could find and line them up for general display, Renton just had to open his big mouth and ruin the moment.

"..._Dominic_?" he repeated incredulously. "Dominic is in 'that' Dominic? _My_ Dominic?"

"Yes, 'that' Dominic," confirmed Anemone, frowning a little over her idiot twin's poor and disturbingly possessive wording. "But don't call him 'yours', you freak! That just sounds wrong."

Eureka nodded in fervent agreement.

"Why shouldn't I?" asked Renton with a mildly puzzled expression on his face, which Anemone to her horror realized was quite genuine. "He _is_ mine. I saw him first."

"Maybe, but he's not your..." she trailed off. "You _must_ know what I mean!"

The silence that followed made it rather obvious that he really didn't, but Renton shrugged it off and moved on to a different sort of epiphany.

"Well, well, whaddya know..." he mused. "That little liar said that he had plans for today, something about visiting his aunt's sister's nephew's friend's brother's farm out in the country somewhere. So much for that story, huh."

Anemone was momentarily rendered completely speechless and could only stare, unable to peel her eyes off this _creature_ with which she had somehow roomed for nine whole months inside their mother's womb. Just how she had lasted that long in such close proximity to pure idiocy, she had no idea, nor did she want to dwell on it for much longer. "...are you serious?" she finally managed to splutter. "You _actually_ believed that? Just how stupid are you?"

Ignoring the considerable quip to his intelligence, Renton grumbled in reply, "So when is this 'date' taking place, anyway?"

"And why should I tell you?" Anemone shot back with as much authority as she could.

"_Anemone_," growled Renton, daring her to defy him. This particular growl wasn't so much a noise in the back of his throat as it was a response passed down through the ages from father to son, and reserved exclusively for moments just like this; though it probably helped that he was twirling his baseball bat dangerously close to her large collection of expensive perfumes.

"Okay, fine!" Anemone eyed the bat wearily, having paid no attention to what her brother had actually been saying. "He's picking me up in an hour, alright? Now stop that already!"

"Where from? The house?"

"Yes from the house, where else?" she snapped impatiently. "Why is that important?"

"It's not," replied Renton with as much nonchalance as could be expected from someone who had just been told that his best friend apparently had the hots for his sister. His snotty, vindictive sister with the temper of a banshee... "I might stick around until then, that's all. See to that nothing bad happens, you know, that kind of thing."

Anemone raised a well-groomed eyebrow in genuine surprise. "As much as I appreciate the whole medieval 'protect fair lady's honour' thing going on here, I'm not exactly a damsel in distress, you know. Besides, it's not like Dominic is a stranger. He's a friend. He wouldn't hurt me."

"Oh yeah, I know that."

And right then – _right then_ – she _knew_ that something had just gone horribly, horribly wrong. Her moronic brother looked far too happy, too smug with himself for it to be normal. She must gave walked herself into some kind of trap; there was no other explanation. But before she could do anything about it, she heard him say in a tone of voice absolutely dripping with sugary sweetness.

"Don't get me wrong, I wasn't worried about _you_! Come on, Dom and I go way back, and it's bad style to leave friends behind in enemy territory, is all I'm saying."

Eureka froze; Renton grinned, readying himself for a quick exit, but it took Anemone another moment or two before the penny dropped. Then she had to find her tongue, which had shrivelled up in a confused mess somewhere in the back of her throat: this, mostly out of the utter shock over her idiot brother _actually_ coming up with something remotely clever.

Not that this made it any less insulting.

"WHY-WHY... YOU!" she finally bellowed, viciously hurling her hairbrush after him. "Get out! GET OUT NOW!"


	10. Come and Play

Author's Note: Anemone's thoughts about humanity and they are unusually psychotic.

Also, this is a mildly manga-centric story with only a vague reference to Dominic and his grey eyes.

Disclaimer: I don't own _Eureka Seven_.

* * *

**Come and Play**

#

She's lying on her bed, flat on her back, arms and legs sprawled across the soft bedding in careless abandon, half asleep and bored out of her skull, when the door to her room silently slides open. Her senses, enhanced and tuned to perfection, instantly tremble with anticipation – _give us an enemy to outmanoeuvre, give us a prey to play with, give us blood, give us, give us! – _but she doesn't look up. She doesn't even move. In fact, she does nothing to acknowledge that her peace has been disturbed, because there is only one person she does not treat with indifference (or worse).

But he doesn't visit her as often as he used to and sometimes she fears that Dewey might have forgotten.

Eyes still firmly closed, she simply waits for _it_ to come closer.

Oh, how wicked of her! She suddenly feels a pleasant tightness over her chest, but urges back the giggle, because that would give her away. She will make her awareness known, yes, but not now.

(Not yet.)

It will have to make the first move.

Of course, really, she shouldn't call them _it_. Her attendants are human beings, a jolly assortment of quivering chunks of meat held together by skin, tendons, and bone; all which bleed _so easily_. She knows that well, because if she buries her fingernails deeply enough in that soft flesh, dark red liquid emerges from somewhere beneath, oozing out deliciously – _slowly_ – before hardening into a brittle crust that just begs to be picked. That vulnerability is pitiful, so _pathetic _that it makes her sick; she hates to think that _that_ could have been her in another life. But she admits that it also makes them vaguely interesting to study, because no matter how many times she tries, it is a pattern – puncture, scream, ooze, crust, puncture, scream, ooze, crust – that does not change. Just as their steps are always hurried and their demands fortified with syringes and metal, _it_ _does not change_, and that comforts her somewhat for reasons she doesn't truly care about.

So who will it be today? Whose task will it be to forcefully remove her from her bed? She never leaves willingly unless they sedate her, or _he_ requests her to.

But it is not Dewey who is lingering in her doorway.

(Dewey would not be hesitating.)

So is it the woman with the shrill voice and impossibly large nose? Or the boy with the large, grey eyes? She rather hopes that it is the latter, because there is more satisfaction – _more accomplishment_ – in marring something whole, than disturbing that which is already flawed.

But regardless of what she does or the tantrums she throws, she knows that they cannot hurt her. They cannot retaliate, because her life is more important than theirs. Theirs are expendable, easily replaceable, but not hers. Hers is necessary. And always will be.

(That is why they fear her.)

Oh?

The door is finally sliding shut, hurried footsteps approaching. The wait is over.

_Come_. Her lips curl upwards into a satisfied sneer. _Come and play_.


	11. Mine

Author's Note: Anemone, Dominic, AU!highschool and hickeys. Tell me what you think ^^

Disclaimer: I don't own _Eureka Seven_.

* * *

**Mine**

#

He had been in the very far corner of the relatively well-stocked library, quietly enjoying his only free period of the week among the serious, truly hard-core stuff (mostly consisting of heavy, forbidding-looking tomes of literature generally regarded with suspicion and much dread by his fellow scholars, gathering dust on the shelves for those exact reasons) and deeply engrossed in marvelling at Shakespeare's genius, minding his own business, when the storm hit.

The first – and only – warning that something was about to go horribly awry was issued by the librarian, known as 'Miss Whistle' to the less charitable members of the student population for her rather nasal breathing (otherwise known to the world as 'Miss B. Gondolin', with whom Dominic, as one of the few regular patrons of the facilities, was on good enough terms), who suddenly barked out the sharp reprimand normally reserved for inappropriate conduct: apparently, _her_ library was a Shrine to Knowledge, a Temple of Learning, _not _an automobile race track.

"I'm really sorry, Miss," chirped a voice that Dominic even in his secluded corner ought to have recognized. "But this is an emergency!"

Brenda Gondolin, with her fifty-or-so years of experience of Life, wisely refrained from inquiring into the exact nature of this so-called 'emergency'. After all, at seventeen even the smallest mishap was often mistaken for an earth-shattering disaster; and so the librarian merely spared the slip of a girl, who had just burst through the doors as if her life depended on it, a disapproving glance before sending her along with a dismissive wave and a warning.

Dominic was still blissfully unaware of the gale force twelve drawing ever closer, happily thumbing his way through _Othello_, when he was overcome by the strange, _prickly_ sensation usually accompanying someone staring intently and directly at you.

"I found you..." was suddenly _purred_ over his right shoulder, and it instantly became absurdly clear that hundreds of thousands of years of survival instincts be damned: he stood absolutely no chance. "I've been looking _everywhere_ for you."

Really, it went without saying that it was a damn miracle that he didn't tear off the page with Iago's celebrated speech right there and then.

After slowly counting to three in his head, extra careful not to make any sudden movements, Dominic turned around and (thankfully so, because Dominic would have _freaked_ had it been anyone else murmuring those things in his ear) found himself face to face with his darling, _darling_ girlfriend of nine months, one week and three days.

Though that said, even two hundred and eighty-three days – _and counting!_ – of mostly happy but disorganized coupledom wasn't a heck of a lot, considering that he and Anemone went back much, much further than that; they had known about each other's existences since roughly halfway through second grade (well, _he_ had anyway) when an unusually sullen-looking transfer student had appeared at Dominic's fancy private school one fine Monday morning, instantly getting on with classmate Eureka (Renton's next-door neighbour and therefore of some interest even to Dominic) like a house on fire. In fact, so utterly _destructive_ was the Anemone-Eureka combo for any serious learning to take place that Dominic's only lasting memory from that particular academic period was the ever-changing seating plans to accommodate for Anemone's ingenious ability to somehow inch herself across the classroom over the span of a lesson to invariably end up next to Eureka by the time the bell had rung.

As for his own dealings with the feisty newcomer, they had initially been forced upon him by none other than their exasperated teacher, who by early December had realized that the only way to keep things somewhat civilized was to let the girls sit close – albeit not _next_ – to each other. Dominic, as so it happened, was cast in the unhappy role as their only degree of separation and would dutifully spend the rest of the term ignoring the excessive amounts of girly giggling on either side of him and discreetly disrupting the line of communication making its way across his side of the desk he shared with Anemone. Unsurprisingly, his unwillingness to participate in her schemes didn't exactly score him any brownie points with his new desk-buddy, who on top of being loud and demanding also was a _girl_ (and girls in general only ceased to be gross and cooties-infested until much, _much_ later). Still, they had eventually formed a tentative alliance – against the teacher, whose fault it was that they were seated next to each other in the first place – and this in turn saw the gradual emergence of a proper friendship (in which he let her copy off their math homework and she helped him curb his inner nerd) over the next few years of largely uneventful middle school life.

Then high school rolled around and with it came a renewed, but hugely _different_, interest in the opposite sex and, of course, casual dating. And not to be outdone by their peers, they both did – _date_, that is – only not each other. Admittedly, hormones and something about the way she walked and talked and laughed and breathed had him toy with the idea of a Them once or twice at this point (okay, so maybe he had thought about it a lot), but it wasn't until Anemone – who had been sort of fickle, Dominic wasn't going to lie – showed a prolonged, unhealthy interest in _Dewey_ (an older guy, a damn _senior_ to Dominic's lowly sophomore, which meant that Dominic, who had yet to graduate from his braces and spotty face, couldn't ever hope to win against him) that he started to seriously reconsider their 'just friends' status. So when his fervent prayers were finally answered and _Dewey_ screwed up big time by getting caught with another girl in the bushes behind the gymnasium, Dominic took it as a divine sign to step up his game. And all his hard work, expensive skin care products and subtle innuendos eventually paid off in their junior year when she pretended to get drunk on non-alcoholic punch at Talho's New Year's Eve bash, kissed him squarely on the lips as the clock struck twelve – and didn't even _try_ to deny the fact afterwards.

The next two hundred and eighty-_two_ days had been as close to plain sailing as things got with someone as emotionally turbulent as Anemone; her fiery temper, even without her super-vindictiveness when perceived wronged in any way and occasional bouts of irrational jealousy, was enough to drive even a saint to alcoholic beverages, recreational drugs and very loud music. Luckily for both parties, however, Dominic – for all his persistently good grades, involvement in both the Student Council and the marching band, and overall air of Good Kid – wasn't exactly an angel; something that Anemone had discovered shortly after their fifth official date, and which she had been absolutely _thrilled_ to exploit for all she was worth ever since.

And Dominic obviously didn't mind the slightest, not when his Anemone simply was that perfect.

Still, perfect or not, she was eyeing him like a starved hyena would a day-old carcass; and, perfectly devoted boyfriend or not, she was sure to kill him stone-cold dead if she ever found out about that comparison – which to be fair was still better than being the decomposing scrap of meat in the situation. But then, Dominic supposed that he shouldn't worry about the consequences of Anemone finding out about anything unflattering anymore, seeing that he was probably about to die anyway; judging from her death glares anything else seemed highly unlikely.

Unless, of course, Dominic remembered whatever it was that he had _clearly_ forgotten about and could atone for his sins before she got really mad and decided to revoke his Boyfriend Rights again.

"A-Anemone, what are you doing here?" he whispered in a suitably libraryish voice; causing a scene in front of Miss Gondolin, only to be unceremoniously thrown out by the same, was definitely not on his to-do list before graduation. "Aren't you, eh, supposed to be in class?"

He was stalling and she knew it, but what was he supposed to do? He needed all the time he could get to run through all their important dates and milestones. Was it her birthday? No, that was in April. Was it _his_ birthday? Impossible. Valentine's Day? No. Christmas Day? No. Their Two Hundred and Eighty-Three Days anniversary? Somehow he doubted that very much, because Anemone maintained the adorable notion that celebrating too often would jinx them; and Dominic, for his part, was more than happy to forego all minor anniversaries for the rest of his life if that kept them un-jinxed and together.

"I'm on a bathroom break," she hissed back, coldly and in complete seriousness. "But don't you have something to tell me?"

Dominic hadn't been guilty of anything remotely serious since cheating on that English vocabulary test in fourth grade, but still he panicked. He blamed it on the adrenaline when his mouth moved without permission from his brain.

"...I d-do?"

That was a big mistake and Dominic immediately regretted saying anything, because her face instantly scrunched up with displeasure, leaving him no choice but to plead insanity and start babbling like an idiot:

"I-I mean, yeah, I do! I do! I was going to, eh, tell you but I couldn't find you between classes and I, um, I'm really sorry? _Really_ sorry about that, eh, that _thing_, you know, that, ah, happened, eh, earlier?"

"What 'thing'?" Her eyes narrowed into slits. "You mean there's _more_?"

"Uh..." He had no idea what she was talking about, but it seemed that he had only made matters worse. "I mean... no?"

"No? _No_?" she fumed in a very quiet voice. "So what were you and Sunnivelle doing earlier? You looked real cosy together!"

"...what?"

"Don't even _try_ denying it! I saw you!"

Dominic blinked twice as it slowly dawned on him where the conversation was heading. "But—"

"But _what_?" she demanded, puffing out her chin defiantly, and it was such a fundamentally (and irresistibly endearing) Anemone-ic gesture that Dominic nearly forgot his growing annoyance. Nearly.

"_Christ_, Anemone!" he hissed, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. "Sunny and I were discussing _calculus_. You can ask anyone. We were standing in the middle of the damn hallway so there should be plenty of witnesses!"

"But I see you together all the time," she pouted, crossing her arms defensively over her chest. "And you call her 'Sunny'! You don't even do that for me!"

"You want me to call you 'Sunny'?" he countered with mock seriousness.

"Of course not, stupid!" she exclaimed, exasperation radiating off her in thick waves. "But how come _she's_ got a nickname when _I_ haven't!"

"You rather I stopped using your full name and started calling you 'Ane'?" Dominic could hardly bite back the smile threatening to spill over his lips. He really shouldn't encourage it, but her possessive streak was beyond cute. "Is that it?"

"No, that's horrendous! But that's totally not the point! What? Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Anemone, are you _jealous_?"

She scoffed, suddenly extremely interested in the polish of her shoes. "Why would I? I'm way prettier than her and definitely more popular."

"Well, you shouldn't be. Sunny and I are just good friends."

"Good friends who just happen to share the same taste in music, like the same boring foods, get each other's lame band jokes and—" She spit out, "—who used to be a lot more than just study buddies."

"We've been over this, Anemone. Sunny and I went out a few times before we decided that we were best off as friends, and this was _long_ before you and me happened. Besides..." He allowed for a small grimace. "If I were to bear grudges against all _your_ exes, I would—"

"Alright, alright, fine! It was just when I saw you, I just..." She faltered. "I don't know. I just thought... I don't know what I thought."

"Then don't think so much, unless it's about me." He winked playfully at her. "I'll allow that."

"Stupid."

"Yeah, sometimes you are a little," he replied lightly. "But don't worry, I like you anyway."

"Shut up," she grumbled, half-heartedly and without any real venom. "Dominic, was it really just about math?"

"Yes," he replied firmly, making a point to catch her gaze with his and hold it there.

"And that's all?"

"That's all."

"You swear?"

He nodded. "I swear."

"...okay," she whispered at last.

Dominic smiled. "Okay?"

"Okay," she confirmed, looking a bit sheepish.

"Good." He gave her hand a quick, reassuring squeeze. "It's not that I don't like talking to you, Anemone, but you should probably get back to class before they send a search pa..._ah_?"

As he was talking, her hand had slowly snaked its way up towards his shirt collar, hovering over the neat knot of his school tie for a perpetual two seconds before it _yanked_. The walls seemed to close in all around him, and it suddenly became ten times as difficult to concentrate.

He swallowed hard, trying to maintain his composure but failing miserably. "Y-You'll get in t-trouble."

"Hm...? Silly, silly Dominic," she whispered mischievously, wagging an index finger playfully in his face. "I never get in trouble."

She looked every bit like the proverbial cat about to pounce on a particularly fat and succulent canary bird, but even so Dominic told himself to keep calm; and more importantly, not to look expectant in any way whatsoever.

"But that's s-still no reason to... to... eh, to..." God, sometimes he really hated how much he loved the way she messed with his mind.

Then without warning she pulled him down towards her, and he felt something warm, soft and wonderfully feathery brush up against his left cheek and ghosting along his jaw line in the direction of his ear.

"A-Anemone!" he spluttered, partly shocked and partly in awe, because they would get _so_ suspended if anyone saw. "W-What are you _doing_?"

"Anything the matter, Dominic?" she breathed against his skin, eyes all wide and unnaturally innocent. "Is there something wrong?"

"No! I mean yes. I mean no. I mean‒"

"Or maybe you didn't like it?"

"Ane—!" was all he managed before she pushed him back against the far wall. "Wait! Listen to me! This is the library, what if someone—"

"Let them." The mirth in her voice was dangerously contagious as she played with a few strands of his hair. "Relax. Nobody ever comes to this section. Well, except for you, maybe."

"Still!" he protested, desperately grasping for something logical to say, even as he felt his resolve melt away like butter under her soft hands. "It's hardly appropriate to... you know... in _here_."

"And your point is?" She flashed him her best Cheshire Cat-meets-Demon impression and Dominic nearly choked on his own tongue; the twinkle in her eye promised both terrifying and incredible things. "Besides, when have I ever been appropriate?"

Then, without waiting for a reply, she had gone for the throat and the ability to think coherently about anything at all escaped him completely.

"God, Anemone," he murmured hoarsely, awareness flooding back to him along with the realization that someone_ could walk in on them at any time_. "That—"

"—was fun," she finished for him, much too cheerfully. "We should totally do this again."

"That'll leave a mark, won't it?" he sighed, cupping a particularly sore spot on his neck, mentally steadying himself for the avalanche of jeers and snide remarks bound to be directed his way courtesy of the bunch of immature jerks (Renton in particular) masquerading as his friends.

"So? You're mine, Dominic," she replied primly, as if she hadn't just ravished him among the dusty bookshelves in the school library, Miss Gondolin only a few precious sections away. "I'm just letting everyone know."


	12. Princess

Author's Note: Perhaps it's a companion story to 'The Visit', perhaps it's not. You decide.

Disclaimer: _Eureka Seven_ does in no way whatsoever belong to me. Sigh.

* * *

**Princess**

#

Gidget sighed, slowly straightening her aching back and stretching her arms high over her head, savouring the satisfying _crack_ as her spine snapped back into place. Seriously, manual labour was _so_ not her style, but Hilda had _insisted_ that Gidget helped with organizing their meagre rations, and when Hilda insisted on something – like really, _truly_ insisted, _for_ _real_ – then even almighty leader Holland knew to shut up and bow to her wishes. After all, an angry Hilda was scary as hell, and almost as fearsome as a pissed-off Hap.

Besides, with the capital in absolute ruins around them, and with scores of shocked and disoriented people slowly coming out of hiding and more still trapped under the debris, she couldn't very well _refuse_; not when everyone else were doing their best. The brainiac double-act Jobs and Woz were still struggling with getting the Gekkostate back online, and according to Leader, who was acting as some sort of bossy herald whenever Talho wasn't fussing all over him (though Gidget supposed that it was totally and utterly understandable considering the circumstances and Holland's newfound amputee status), they had briefly accessed core operations a few hours ago, and managed to transmit a general distress signal. But then it was anyone's guess as to whether or not anyone had actually received it, as all systems had failed shortly afterwards and remained down ever since, despite all kinds of clever resuscitation attempts. So in short, even their resident Fix-Its and All-Purpose Geek Geniuses didn't know if or when anyone would come to their aid. So in the meantime, Matthieu and Hap were busy with search and rescue missions, taking turns to look for survivors among the rubble, using the only functional LFO left; and Mischa, bless that woman's brains and ingenuity, was somehow running a one-woman clinic on God-knew what power.

Enter Hilda, clutching an inventory and the kids in tow, looking for slaves...

At least those military men were helping out, too. Though, as far as Gidget was concerned, they could just go—

"Hey!"

She nearly dropped the can of baked beans in her hands (a 'holy kitchen staple' according to Hap, and apparently 'way up there' with frozen vegetables, beer and rice), because a tall, thin figure dressed in blue was rapidly making his way towards the camp site, stumbling slightly as he went along, seemingly unaware – or maybe just uncaring – of the rubble in his path. His left arm was secured to his body by an improvised sling, but whatever pain the bullet left behind once Mischa had finished patching him up, it didn't seem to stop him from waving furiously at her with his right.

"HEY!"

And despite the seriousness of it all – despite the devastation and dislodged people everywhere you looked – despite Holland who had returned to them as a hero but without one of his arms – despite Renton and Eureka who were still missing – despite Doggie who had been _shot_ in cold blood by those military creeps – Gidget couldn't help but to smile at his antics. Moondoggie could be so _silly_, even at the worst of times! Honestly, though, he probably didn't even know how lucky he was that Gidget was a girl who appreciated cute in all shapes, forms and expressions.

So briefly abandoning her duties, and thus risking Hilda's wrath was she caught slacking off, Gidget acted on the most sensible thing she could think of and moved to greet him.

"Moondo—"

But he had already passed her without as much as a look. Which _without a shadow of a doubt_ was totally unacceptable boyfriend behaviour – and _so_ not cute! Her Moondoggie might not be a perfect gentleman, but he would never just ignore her like that!

This wasn't the laidback, slightly goofy Moondoggie she knew at all, and that scared her a little.

"Hey, wait! Wait! Stop!" she yelled after him. "Hey! I said, _stop_!"

Perhaps it was the slight tremble in her voice, or sheer exhaustion from having run for so long and so hard, but he let her catch up with him.

"What's going on?" she asked, more worried than mad. "What is it, Doggie?"

He was breathing hard, sweat trickling down from under the brim of his hat and with a blank look on his face; Moondoggie _never_ ran for _anything_, so something big must have happened for him to come galloping along like some panic-stricken horse.

"What is it?" repeated Gidget in earnest, secretly wondering if she even wanted to know. "Moondoggie, what happ—"

"Gidget..." he ground out in a strange, strangled voice. "Gidget, where is Leader?"

"Holland?" Gidget frowned. If Doggie was voluntarily deferring to Holland, it had to be bad news. "He should be around, but why—"

"He's right here," declared a voice impatiently. "What's the rush?"

Moondoggie locked eyes with the man who had appeared behind Gidget. "Holland," he said. "I found it."

"'It'?" Holland cocked a brow. "Care to be a bit more specific?"

"I..." Moondoggie squared his shoulders. "I found the crash site and—"

"Oh, _God_," whispered Talho, one hand over her mouth. "_Renton_."

Holland took a step forward. "You found the Nirvash?" he demanded in a low voice.

Gidget held her breath, and the whole world seemed to stop around them.

"No," admitted Moondoggie apologetically, taking the edge off of the tension somewhat. "Not the Nirvash, but the black one."

Holland and Talho exchanged a quick look before the former asked, "Where?"

"Eh, it's close..." Moondoggie used his good arm to motion at the empty, ghostly remains of a far office building. "Less than two blocks in that direction."

Talho suddenly spoke up. "What about the pilot?"

She smiled in a way that she hoped was encouraging, but then Moondoggie _hesitated_ and Talho's heart sank. That Dominic guy had looked so confident when he and Renton set out to rescue Eureka and save the world – and the crazy duo _must_ have pulled it off somehow, seeing how the Coralians were gone and Earth hadn't imploded after all. Still, Talho hadn't been able to dispel the thick, sickening feeling in her chest as she watched them, two young men – men? What men? They were little more than _boys_ for goodness sake! – disappear into their respective LFOs. It was as if it had been decided right there and then that only _one_ would make it back alive, and as much as it shamed her now – back then, at that precise moment – she had hoped to God that it would be Renton.

So maybe it was the overwhelming guilt over having so callously favoured one life over another (or perhaps it was for letting Dominic, whose physical condition had been far worse than Renton's, go on that mission in the first place) that pushed her heart to the very pit of her stomach when Moondoggie looked away.

"I don't know," he said at last. "But trust me, it was _bad_."

His voice sounded so incredibly _empty_ that Gidget felt sick. "H-How bad?" she asked quietly, because the rawness of the emotions flitting across the woman's face told her that Talho couldn't bring herself to ask (and Gidget knew that Holland simply _wouldn't_), but they needed to know so _someone_ had to do it. "Doggie? _How bad_?"

"Honestly...?" Moondoggie took one of Gidget's hands in his and _squeezed_. "It's the worst I've ever seen."

There was a brief moment of silence before Holland took command. "Talho," he muttered. "Get Mischa. We might need her."

Talho pursed her lips. Holland rarely ordered her to do anything, and when he did, she usually objected vehemently, but now was not the time. So she turned on her heel and disappeared in seconds.

Holland sighed, and massaged the side of his head with his remaining hand. "Hap, go find Matthieu..."

Then, to Moondoggie, "Show us."

#

Mischa was speechless. Her particular line of work ensured that she had seen a lot of things through the years, most of them unpleasant in one way or another, but this...

"I'll be going back," she said, surveying the damage one last time. "I won't be needed here."

Moondoggie scratched the back of his head. "I'll go too, Holland. Gidget..."

Holland grunted in acknowledgement, not taking his eyes off of the pitiful remains of the once proud LFO front of him; even with the ruins around it, it was the perfect picture of complete and utter destruction. Nobody – _nobody_ – survived a death like that.

Then, suddenly, something by the wreckage moved.

A _girl_, he realized, clutching a torn and dirty blanket around her shoulders. And for a moment, Holland assumed that she was just some curious survivor – a damn _lucky_ _one_ – until he noticed the colour of her hair.

It was a shade of unnaturally bright _pink_, and something deep inside his brain clicked in place.

Holland's eyes widened. "Talho, that girl... She's—"

"I know who she is," interrupted him the woman at his side. "Mischa has been treating her, Holland, on _my_ orders."

"..._what_?!" he hissed in cold disbelief, because that girl wasn't just anyone. She was Anemone, the infamous pilot of TheEND, Dewey's killer puppet who nearly succeeded in bringing about the end of the world, and even when knowing all this, Talho (and Mischa) had _helped_ her?

"She was infected with the same virus as the Coralians," explained Talho quietly. "We couldn't just let her die."

Holland stared. This was absurd! "Talho, she was his _ace_ pilot!"

"I _know_, but—" Talho gestured towards the thin figure just standing there, silent and alone and _pathetic_. "Holland, _look_ at her! She... She's just a _girl_!"

He reluctantly did what he was told, but he still couldn't understand. She was _here_ – Anemone was_ here _– well within firing range – and by all rights, they should hate her and everything she stood for. He hated her and Talho _should_.

"But, Talho, she's a k—"

"And we're not? _Eureka_ isn't?" Talho's voice was hard and sharp. "Dominic fought beyond his limits to save her. That should mean something."

_Eureka_.

Holland cringed inwardly. Only Talho would dare to use that name against him, and he both hated and loved the woman for it.

_Eureka_, Anemone. _Anemone_, Eureka.

_Renton_, Dominic. _Dominic_, Renton.

_Holland_, Dewey. _Dewey_, Holland.

...was there even such a big difference anyway?

Holland suddenly felt old and so very tired. "Get her out," he muttered under his breath. "Whatever she is, whatever she's done, she doesn't need to be here for this."

Talho's hand brushed against his, all feather-like and _soft_. Then she was gone.

Holland sighed. It wasn't much, but if he could spare a child soldier from at least this, he supposed that he would... for Eureka's sake.

And for Talho's.

#

"A-Anemone...?" Talho approached the young woman slowly and carefully as one might a frightened kitten. "I don't know if you remember from earlier, you were in pretty bad shape back then, but—"

"I know who you are," interjected the girl airily. "Gekkostate, right?"

Talho nodded.

"...he's dead, isn't he?"

She nearly flinched. "Who?"

"Dewey, of course," replied the girl flatly. "The shaking stopped."

"Y-Yes," said Talho, a little stunned, because this wasn't the reaction she had expected. "Yes. He is."

"I'm glad." The girl lowered her voice. "Did you hear that, Dominic?" she whispered to the LFO. "Dewey didn't win after all."

"Dominic." Talho was fighting to find the right words. "Dominic, he—"

"He shouldn't have known what to do. He never had any training." The girl laughed softly. "You know..." she continued, conspiratorially. "I don't think he had ever seen the inside of the cockpit until today. Silly, silly, Dominic..."

Talho didn't know what to say. "Anemone, I..."

"But he was very clever," said the girl, proudly. "My Dominic was always so clever. And he was really brave to go, wasn't he? He made the Child very happy until the very end."

Talho smiled through the tears forming at the corners of her eyes. "Come on," she said gently. "Let's get you back."

The girl let herself be led away from her broken LFO, only turning around once.

"Gulliver, that's enough," she called out, and a fat shadow separated itself from the shadow of some rubble. "...we're leaving."

#

"Holland, what should we...? Eh, boss?"

Holland sighed. As much as he was dreading this, it had to be done.

"Matthieu," he ordered. "Open the hatch."

"If we find it first..." muttered Matthieu unhappily, regarding the wreckage sceptically. "But, Holland, why do_ I_ have to—"

"I would do it myself, but I can't." Holland gestured to his stump impatiently, before shoving a thumb in Hap's general direction. "And _he_ wouldn't fit."

Hap glared evilly. "Watch it."

"Or what?" informed him Holland dryly. "I'm a cripple now and can do whatever the hell I want."

Then, to Matthieu, "Just do it, okay?"

The pilot threw his hands up in defeat, silently cursing himself and his lean genetics, Leader for his messed-up family relations and Hap for being a damn emotional eater, but nevertheless scaling the still-warm LFO in search for the emergency hatch. And he eventually found it, only barely making it out; even up close, it looked no less than absolutely totalled.

"Hey! I found it!" shouted Matthieu. "But this thing's so busted that it doesn't even have a handle no more! Leader, what do we do now?"

"We'll just have to pry it open!" Holland yelled back. "We're getting him out... Hap?"

"Yeah, I'm on it," said Hap. "I just need to go back and get some tools."

#

She approached him soundlessly from behind, but their many years together had taught him to sense her presence, or at the very least to recognize her perfume.

"Talho," he said just as she joined him. "You don't have to be here for this either."

"I know," she said, quietly. "But I want to."

Holland cracked a shallow smile. He should have expected this, because Talho was tougher than Hap's beef special. Diane Renton had been the same but in her own way, which made it a completely different thing; and Holland knew that he could never have loved Diane like he loved Talho. "...how's the girl?" he asked, reluctantly. "Anemone."

"Asleep." Talho smiled her brilliant, heart-shattering smile, and she suddenly looked so fragile that something inside of him clenched and Holland felt a sharp urge to kill his idiot bastard brother all over again. "Mischa have her enough sedatives to knock out a horse. For the shock, she said."

"What shock?" Holland's lips twisted into a wry smile. "She looked alright to me."

"Maybe, but it will set in eventually. You know, I think..." She regarded him seriously. "I think she _saw_, Holland."

Holland shrugged. "That explains how she knew where to find him."

"Anemone, she..." Talho shook her head. "She's not what I expected her to be. She might be faking it and plan to kill us all later on, but after taking to her earlier, I doubt it somehow. She seemed so _relieved_ when she heard about Dewey that—_God_, Holland! I don't even want to think about what he might have done to her to make her do all those things!"

"Then don't," he snapped. "Dewey is dead. My brother is _dead_. It's over."

"...is it really?" Talho asked, softly, softly, and he _flinched_. "Holland?"

He ground his teeth. When had she learnt to read him like that? Or had Talho always known?

"_Yes_," he fairly growled. "It _is_."

She regarded him with a strange look in her eyes. "I don't think you'll ever tell me what really happened and that's okay, too. It's just..." Talho paused to brush aside a strand of hair from the side of his face. "Just don't shut me out anymore. Please, don't shut me out."

Holland sighed. "There's not that much to say," he grumbled. "I tried to kill him, he tried to kill me and everyone on the planet; I won, he's gone. That's all."

Talho looked completely bewildered for a moment, and he thought that she probably never expected him to be so open with her. In fact, he was a bit surprised with himself that he let her come so close to the truth.

"It was the right thing to do," she said at last. "Holland, you didn't have any _choice_!"

"Yeah, I guess," admitted Holland, because it was true. Dewey hadn't left him any damn choice. "But we were family once. Before all this, that bastard and I were _family_."

Talho regarded him thoughtfully. "Are you sure about all this?" she asked. "Wouldn't it be better if we just let it be? I mean, I'm sure the military would—"

"Don't make me laugh!" he spat with all the venom and bitterness of somebody who _knows_. "The military isn't going to do _shit_ for a deserter. No, we're not leaving him like this. That bastard's right-hand man or not, we owe him at least this much, Talho."

She suddenly averted her eyes, fidgeting with the sleeves of her shirt. "...Dominic was in a bad shape when he left, Holland," she said. "_Real_ bad, but I let him go. I didn't even _try_ to—"

"Listen—" Holland spun her harshly against him. "This was all his choice. And there is nothing you could have done to stop him, _or_ Renton."

Talho struggled, but his grip on her arm was too firm. "How do _you_ know?" she snarled. "You weren't even here!"

Holland cocked a brow. "I'm a _man_, aren't I?"

Talho stilled. "...and that's it?" she demanded. "That doesn't prove anything other than that you're a misogynist bastard!"

"I resent that." Holland peered down at her. "I happen to appreciate you very much, Talho."

Talho frowned. "That's _not_ the same thing."

"Alright, let me explain." Holland slowly released her and let his arm fall back to his side. "I know, as a _man_, because he was off to save the princess."

"What princess..." Talho trailed off. "_Oh_."

"There is always a princess worth saving somewhere along the story," continued Holland, making a point to catch her gaze with his and holding it there. "I'd know," he added quietly.

"So if it had been you back there...?"

She had left the question unfinished, but he wasn't about to leave her in more doubt. That time was over. "I wouldn't have thought twice about it." He winked. "Now, how's that for misogynist?"

"Horrible," she replied with a small grin. "But I'm glad you feel that way. Means there is hope for you yet."

He contemplated to kiss her right then. That woman would eventually be the death of him, and Holland wouldn't have it any other way.

"Tal—"

"Hey! Holland!" It was Hap. "We're about done here!"

"Good work!" Holland shouted back. "Talho?"

"_Go_," she replied, pushing him away with firm hands. "I think I'll head back to help Hilda. Gidget is probably too busy gushing over Doggie to be very useful. Not that I blame her, but if it spares Hilda a nervous breakdown..."

Holland nodded.

Then just as Talho was beyond earshot, he muttered under his breath, "Be careful on your way back, princess."

That done, he hurried towards Matthieu and Hap (because even if he couldn't do much to help, he'd be damned if he wouldn't be right there with them, every step of the way), grimly bracing himself for a right _mess_.

After all, they had a kid to dig out.


	13. Problem Solving

Author's Note: Because Eureka isn't the only one with a quirky grasp on logic. Anemone is trying to read, but Dominic is being a distraction... Just some pointless, plot-less fluff that I found sitting on my computer ^.^;;

FWP = Fluff Without Plot?

Disclaimer: _Eureka Seven_ does so not belong to me.

* * *

**Problem Solving**

#

"Dominic."

"Yes?"

"Stop that."

"Hm?"

"I said, stop that!"

"Stop what?"

"You know what! So stop it!"

"But I'm not doing anything."

"...just don't do it again."

"But you still haven't said what—"

"_Dominic_."

"Alright, I'll stop whatever it is that you don't want me to do."

"Thank you."

**[Not five minutes later...]**

"Dominic."

"Yes?"

"You're doing it again. Stop it!"

"Are you feeling alright, Anemone? You seem kinda agitated."

"I'm fine."

"Okay, if you say so."

**[Exactly ten seconds later...]**

"Dominic."

"Yes?"

"Explain something to me."

"Sure. What is it?"

"In a story, whenever two people kiss, their problems go away. Correct?"

"...that depends entirely on the story. Why?"

"So if I kissed someone, would my problems go away?"

"W-W-What?! _Why_? Has anyone tried to—"

"Of course not, you idiot! My question was hypothetical. Well?"

"Well, hypothetically speaking, then yeah. I suppose that you could solve your problems that way. But real life and fairytales are very differe—_hmmph_!"

"Now go away. You're being problematic."


	14. O Brothers, Why Art Thou?

Author's Note: I'm back with yet another AU story. Sometimes it really sucks being the youngest, doesn't it, Dominic?

Disclaimer: _Eureka Seven_ is not mine.

* * *

**O Brothers, Why Art Thou?**

#

She's flying. The wind is in her hair and her favourite pink dress is billowing behind her like a sail, and there on the ground far, far below is Mama and Papa, and Eureka and baby Sakura too; and everyone is smiling and laughing and cheering as she soars higher and higher and higher until—

"Honey, it's time to wake up."

Mama's breath is soft and warm against her ear, and her familiar scent is comforting, but Anemone isn't done flying yet so Mama will just have to wait.

"Honey?"

"Dunwanna," whines the little girl stubbornly, eyes firmly closed.

Madeleine Argento smiles and slowly straightens her back; their oldest is her husband's daughter through and through. She beckons the tall, handsome man at her side to come closer. "Andrew, darling, could you…?"

Papa sighs. "Anemone, we're here."

She can feel him looming over her, but she swats his hand away when he reaches across her to unbuckle her seatbelt. "No," she pouts.

"Anemone." Papa's voice is stern. "Get out of the car. Now."

She doesn't want to, but Papa's voice sounds tired so she obeys nonetheless. "…okay, Papa," she grumbles, holding out her arms towards him.

Papa's frown melts into a small smile as he helps her out of the car. He presses a feathery kiss against her temple and murmurs in her ear, "Good girl."

He then takes her hand firmly in his, offers Mama his other arm, and together they walk through the gates towards the biggest house Anemone has ever seen.

#

Papa rings the doorbell while Mama fixes her hair. Anemone doesn't think Mama's hair needs any more fixing, because Papa says that Mama is beautiful. Anemone thinks so too, and Eureka says that Mama looks like a princess from a fairy tale.

"Mama…" she whispers, tugging at Mama's full skirt insistently. "Mama!"

"Yes? What is it, honey?" replies Mama, though it's obvious that she isn't really listening.

Anemone stomps her foot. "Mama, I wanna go home," she complains, suddenly missing little sister Eureka's company more than ever. "Mama, I don't like this itchy dress. Ma—"

"Anemone, honey, _please_." Mama crouches down and kisses her cheek. "This dinner is very important for your Papa, so we just have to try our best, okay?"

Anemone scrunches up her nose. "Why?" she demands, regarding Mama suspiciously.

Mama smiles. "Because," she says, gently tightening the ribbons around the child's lopsided pigtails.

The little girl frowns. "Papa says that's not a reason."

Then the door finally opens, and an elderly man with white gloves on his hands ushers them inside.

#

Azmodeus and Cicily Kane Novak have a lot of friends, she decides. No matter where she looks there are people, laughing and talking, ladies in dazzling dresses and gentlemen in well-polished shoes; but nobody shines as brightly as Mama.

Not even Mrs. Cicily, Papa's boss' wife, who smells like wild flowers and kissed her on both cheeks, telling Mama how precious she was, when Mama and Papa took her to greet the Novaks.

"Your name is Anemone, right?"

She turns around. "Do I know you?" she asks, carefully studying the boy standing there in front of her. She and Eureka aren't supposed to talk to strangers, but the boy looks about her own age and Mama said to be polite.

The boy has a pretty smile, too. And dimples. "Not yet, you don't," he says cheerfully and extends his right hand. "I'm Dominic. Nice to meet you."

Anemone stares at the palm with five fingers held out towards her. She has seen Papa do the same in formal greeting, so she takes it and shakes it twice; it flops awkwardly against her own, but at least she did it right. "How do you know my name?" she asks curiously, absentmindedly wiping her hand against her dress.

The boy, Dominic, laughs. "I live here," he says simply as if that explains everything.

She regards the boy thoughtfully. Norb is being quiet and boring as usual, and she doesn't particularly want to play with the Ageha children, so she has been sitting on her own ever since Mama and Papa went over to talk with uncle Adroc and Mr. and Mrs. Egan; at least she has someone to talk to now, even if it is a _boy_.

"I like your house." She looks around appreciatively. "It's really big."

"Thanks, I guess…" Dominic shrugs. Then, he perks up. "Hey, do you like turtles?"

Anemone gawks.

"I got two for my birthday," explains the boy excitedly. "They're really cool. I can show you if you want."

And before she has a chance to say anything, Dominic takes her by the hand and drags her up the grand staircase.

#

Anemone doesn't particularly like turtles, and why should she when butterflies are so much prettier? But Dominic's enthusiasm is contagious, and she soon finds herself engrossed in his strange, slow-moving pets.

He is just about to tell her about the time Koda nearly escaped from the enclosure, when the door to Dominic's bedroom is suddenly wrenched open.

"Dom, you little weasel!" roars an angry voice from the doorway. "Now you're gonna fucking _pay_!"

Dominic quickly scrambles to his feet. "It wasn't me!" he insists weakly as an older boy enters the room.

"Like hell it wasn't!" rages the boy, a storm brewing in his eyes. "Listen up, brat. I was this close to breaking through to level 100. This. Damn. Close."

The boy who is now towering over Dominic is fuming, and Anemone would laugh if it weren't from the look on Dominic's face.

"Do you even know how long it took me to get this far, huh?! Do you? DO YOU?!"

"Excuse me…" Anemone speaks up, frowning. "Who are you? And why are you being mean to Dominic?"

The angry boy freezes, a fistful of Dominic's dress shirt still firmly in his grasp. "Ah. I didn't see you there."

Anemone ignores him. "Why are you being mean to Dominic?" she repeats impatiently.

"He, eh, broke my remote," explains the boy awkwardly. Then, to Dominic, "You could have told me she was there, birdbrain."

"I was trying to!" whines Dominic, squirming against the hold. "Let me go, you jerk!"

"Watch it," hisses the older boy through his teeth. "So, she has a name or what?"

Dominic stops struggling. "Anemone," he says, reluctantly.

"Hn."

Anemone proudly stands her ground when the boy suddenly lets go of Dominic, who promptly crashes into the wall, and stalks over. He slowly leans down so that they are face to face, and she realizes that he has the same eyes as Dominic.

"…cute," he says, studying her closely. Anemone stares back, unafraid. "Way too cute to be his girlfriend, though. How on earth did you manage this, Dom?"

"H-Holland!" stutters Dominic, beet-red. "Shut up!"

"Must you tease him so, Holland?" Anemone looks up, and a third boy, older than the rest and very handsome, is leaning against the doorframe. "He's being a much better host than you. And he's only eight."

The Holland boy crosses his arms resolutely over his chest, and scowls. "Dewey, the little rat broke my damn rem—_ow_!"

"Language, little brother!" Anemone watches wide-eyed as Dewey easily tweaks Holland's ear. "I apologize if he did anything to upset you, Miss..." He gives her a friendly smile. "Come now, Holland. Mother requests your presence downstairs."

And with a last, dazzling smile and a wink, Dewey marches Holland out of the room, but the latter's complaining can be heard even out in the hallway.

_"But Dewey!"_

_"Would you stop squirming! Why are you being so antisocial?"_

_"Let go of me, freak!"_

_"Holland. One more rude word out of you and I'm telling Mother."_

_"N-No way! Dewey, you wouldn't! She'll take away my Wii for sure this time!"_

_"I won't if you behave for the rest of the evening."_

_"…tch. Whatever."_

_"Why must you be so difficult?"_

Anemone turns to Dominic, who is straightening his shirt collar. "Your brothers?" she asks.

"No," he denies firmly and with a perfectly straight face. "Never seen them before in my life."


End file.
